


When the Magic Comes Back

by Ralkana



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, F/M, NaNoWriMo, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-29
Updated: 2005-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:16:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 59,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's spent a long time picking up the pieces of her life, and now Morgan Huston's ready to move on, but can she find real happiness surrounded by the trappings of make believe?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My NaNoWriMo 2004 entry, finished in one month and edited in two.
> 
> For my mom, who knew I could do it, and for Maquis Leader -- my cheerleader, my thesaurus, my Prozac, my sounding board, and above all, my friend. I couldn't have done it without you!

 

Morgan Huston looked up from the letter she was typing as her intercom bleated for attention. Again. For the third time.

"Yes, Carl?"

"Morgan... I can't seem to find my notepad. I had it this morning, when I spoke with Mr. Jamison. Can you please check my desk?"

She stifled a sigh, brushing her slightly too long bangs off her forehead. "Sure. Give me a second."

Finishing her letter, she made her way into her boss' cluttered office. He was a much better attorney than he gave himself credit for, but he was hopelessly unorganized. She found his notepad just where she knew it would be, halfway down his pile of Things To Get To Sometime Today. Which was sandwiched between Things To Get To Immediately, and Things That Can Wait A While.

"What would you do without me, Carl?" she muttered, trying to do a cursory cleanup of the piles. She glanced around again. "Probably get lost in here and never find your way out. They'd have to send in expeditions after you."

She rapped on the door of the tiny conference room before letting herself in. Smiling politely at Carl's client, Mr. Valish, she gritted her teeth to ignore his leer as his gaze roamed suggestively over her figure. She'd dressed conservatively precisely because she knew he'd be in the office today, but apparently it wasn't enough. _Maybe a burlap sack would do it_ , she thought, irritated, resisting the urge to tug the hem of her skirt down.

"Here you go. Is there anything else?"

Carl distractedly looked up from the file he was leafing through. "What? Oh, no. Thanks."

"You sure?" she said, inwardly wincing at the annoyance she could hear in her tone.

His dark brows drew together in mild consternation, marring the youthful look of his features. "No... no, I think we're fine, Morgan. Thanks."

Morgan nodded and began to make her way back towards the door. A sudden sharp pain made her yelp and jump. She whirled around. "Hey!"

 _Oh my God, he just pinched my ass!_ she thought, feeling her eyes widen in shock.

Valish was openly grinning, and when she glared at him, he waggled his bushy eyebrows in a way that made her skin crawl. Speechless, she directed her furious gaze at Carl, who smiled apologetically at her, but he said nothing, and his eyes pleaded with her not to make a scene.

Without another word, she stormed out of the conference room and retreated to her desk, where she sat, seething. _What a loser! I can't believe he just did that!_

She didn't know why she was surprised. Valish wasn't the first of Carl's clients who'd manhandled her, but it still shocked her every time it happened. Not that it happened very often, but she'd been working for Carl for five years now, and even a handful of times was too many.

Morgan glanced down at herself. Lately, she'd begun eating regularly again -- and trying to eat right -- and gentle curves had begun to replace the stick thin form she'd had for the last several years. Her height gave her a figure her mother would have called statuesque. Her shapeliness, long brown hair, and light brown eyes combined to give her a look that was beginning to net her second glances from guys -- something that hadn't happened since high school. That was nice, but she could definitely do without the attention from Carl's sleazy clients.

Her anger and the unhappiness and discontent that had been building within her suddenly boiled over, and she started up her word processing program and began typing.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Morgan kept her gaze trained on her desk as Carl shook hands and laughed with Valish. His laugh was brittle and way too loud, which told her he was definitely not happy with the client. She wished he would express his displeasure to the man, but that was obviously too much to ask. She mumbled a reply as Valish cheerily said goodbye and conveyed his wish to see her again soon. It took everything she had to remain quiet and not tell him exactly what she thought of him.

Holly came bustling in then, all blondeness and bouncy youth and vitality, and Morgan shuddered anew at the way Valish's appraising gaze traveled over the girl's body.

"She's sixteen, you pig!" she muttered, forcing herself to smile innocently when the three of them glanced over at her. Their puzzled expressions reassured her that her words hadn't been distinguishable.

Valish finally took his leave, and both Carl and Morgan sighed with relief.

"That guy's creepy," Holly said, her blue eyes wide and apprehensive as she unconsciously shifted away from the door.

"Why do you take on sleazeballs like that?" Morgan demanded of Carl.

"Hey, he's a client, Morgan. A sleazy client is better than none -- "

"You're a _good_ attorney, Carl. You could do so much better than him! That was the reasoning you used five years ago before you built up a client base!"

He looked surprised at her vehemence, and she sighed. It was an argument they'd had at least twice a month for a year, and his mulish opinion never changed. She wasn't sure it ever would, and suddenly she was very tired of trying to change it. "Never mind. Carl, can I talk to you?"

"We're talking," he said warily. "Aren't we? You are, at least."

"In private," she answered, glancing at his office. Holly was peeking surreptitiously between them as she looked through the filing to be done, trying to pretend like she wasn't paying attention.

He suddenly looked a lot more concerned. "Sure," he said, gesturing her in before him. She took a deep breath, steeling herself as he closed the door and made his way to his desk.

Morgan remained standing as he sat, and he looked even more apprehensive, if that was possible.

She took another deep breath, which turned into a sigh, and then she handed him the letter she'd typed earlier. "Here, Carl. The letter is my notice of resignation, effective two weeks from today."

"What? You can't be serious!" Carl sat back in his chair, astounded, his baby blue eyes wide with disbelief.

"Look -- "

"Just because he pinched you? Come on, Morgan -- "

She gaped at him, astounded. "You make it sound like that wouldn't be a good reason! You didn't even say anything to him, and what he did was clearly inappropriate!"

"It's just one slimeball."

"And if it was some gross woman groping you against your will, one wouldn't be enough? Look, the fact is, it _isn't_ just one slimeball. You know he isn't the only one who's done that -- and he isn't even the main reason I'm leaving. He was just the breaking point. You're a good man, Carl, and a _great_ attorney -- I just wish you realized that. I've been here five years, and I've seen you get so much better at what you do, but you're still taking on the same scumbags you did right out of law school. You're squandering your potential, and I think you're squandering mine."

His eyes narrowed. "How am I squandering yours?"

"I'm getting paid receptionist's wages -- _good_ receptionist's wages, but still receptionist's wages -- for doing the work of a legal secretary. Hell, Carl, sometimes I do paralegal work!"

"You're not trained for it -- you think you could go anywhere else and get more money? Is that what this is? You angling for a raise?"

She was genuinely hurt by his hostility; they had always had an excellent rapport, and she considered him closer than some of the people she classed as friends. "Carl, have I ever done anything like that?" When he just glared at her, she demanded, "Well? Have I?"

After a pause, he grudgingly shook his head. "No."

"You've always paid me well for what my job description entails, and you've been very fair with raises. It isn't about the money. You know it's not. You, of all people, know it's not the money. You've supported me through some -- some awful things, and you've helped me more than I can say. I'm just not happy here anymore, and if the last few years have taught me anything, it's that you have to be happy in your life. Or, at least, you have to try."

Carl scowled, and she said, "Yes, I know it sounds naïve and clichéd. That doesn't make it any less true."

"Morgan..."

"I'm sorry, Carl. It's been a pleasure to work with you, and I'm not just being polite. As I said, I will stay on for two weeks -- I don't want to leave you completely in the lurch -- "

"You think you're indispensable?"

"Why are you being so hostile? I'm not doing this to hurt you! If you'd like, we can get rid of the first names and go back to honorifics, Mr. Levitt!"

Carl blinked. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Morgan. It's just... well, I guess you _are_ indispensable."

She smiled sadly, remembering what she'd thought earlier when she'd been searching for his notepad. "I'm not. You'll be fine, Carl. Just promise me you won't put it all on Holly. She's just a file clerk, and she's in high school! At least when I started, you had Marianna. Hire someone, okay?"

He nodded, and she set her letter of resignation on top of his Things To Get To Immediately pile. She held out her hand, and he shook it. "Thanks, Morgan. For everything. You've helped me more than I can say, and I'm sorry to see you go. Very, very sorry."

"I'm sorry, too, Carl. But it's time. Way past time."

Carl sighed again, moving her letter to the very corner of the desk, away from his piles, as if he were afraid it would infect them somehow. "I'll leave this here until tomorrow, okay? If you reconsider -- "

"I won't. I wouldn't have done this if I weren't absolutely sure," she told him, but she refrained from letting him know how often she'd been on the verge of quitting.

His eyes met hers, and after a long, tense silence, he nodded once more. She turned to leave, and he said, "Shut the door on your way out, okay?"

She did, returning to the outer office, where Holly was filing and trying to look as if she hadn't been attempting to eavesdrop -- it was rare for Morgan and Carl to have closed door arguments. Normally, when they had disagreements, it was in the outer office. Morgan crossed over to her, and Holly glanced at the closed door of Carl's office.

"What's up, Morgan?" Her voice was hushed.

"I'm leaving, Holly. I just gave Carl my two weeks' notice."

"What? But you've been here forever!"

Morgan laughed. "Forever? How old do you think I am, kid? I've been here five years, and it's time to go."

"You can't leave me here with all of his creepy clients!"

She felt a pang of unease, remembering the way Valish had looked at Holly. She fleetingly wondered if it was a bad idea for her to leave. But the truth was, she wasn't Holly's mother, and if it was _anyone's_ job to look out for Holly, it was Carl's. After all, he was her employer. Morgan resolved to have a word with him about that before she left.

"Listen to me, Holly. Don't you let them lay a finger on you. You _tell_ Carl, and if he doesn't do anything, then you... you file a civil suit on the bastard, okay? Hell, you're a minor -- press charges!"

Holly laughed. "I'm gonna miss you, Morgan."

"I'll miss you too, kid," Morgan said with a fond smile. "And I'm not kidding about pressing charges, okay?"

Holly rolled her eyes, but she nodded.

With one more glance at Carl's closed office door, she sat down at her desk to begin going through her computer files.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

What she'd done really didn't hit her until she climbed into her car that night. Right before she left the office complex's parking lot, she slammed on her brakes, ignoring the indignant honk from someone behind her. The other driver maneuvered around her to pull out into the street, cursing the whole way, but she barely even noticed.

"Oh my God. I just quit my job. With nothing lined up to take its place. What the hell did I do? What the hell am I doing?"

There was a brief moment of panic, and her fingers shook as she dialed her best friend's number on her cell phone.

"This is Cassidy Garcia. I'm unavailable to take your call right now..."

Morgan hit the end button and dropped the phone on the passenger seat, her breath suddenly shaky and hitching.

When she realized what she was doing -- hyperventilating _and_ blocking traffic -- Morgan took deep breaths and tried to compose herself. She pulled out of the parking lot and over to the side of the street, and after a few minutes, her breathing started returning to normal. She eased out into traffic, and the drive home began on autopilot, as it usually did; the car seemed to go where she needed it to go while she was lost in thought.

It wasn't really all that shocking what she'd done, once she thought about it. Quitting was something she'd been thinking of doing for months. Her letter of resignation had come to her extremely easily, and she realized now that that was because she had been drafting it in her head for quite a while.

What she'd told Carl was true -- money was not the issue. She glanced around at her car, a light blue Saturn she'd had for a few years. It wasn't fancy or new, but it was functional, and well-kept, and it was paid off. The house she lived in -- what had once been her family's home -- was also paid off.

Her father had kept his affairs well in order, and she knew that that had saved her -- saved her well-being, and might have even saved her life -- after the sudden deaths of her parents and older brother three years previously. His investments and insurance had allowed her to pay off their house and her car, and they provided her with almost enough to live comfortably on.

Working for Carl had helped her pay the incidental bills, and it had been secure, and stable. But the suffocating fog of grief she'd been living in had slowly begun easing over the last few months, and her steady, predictable life was chafing.

"You forgot lonely," she muttered, startling herself.

She was surprised to find herself in her neighborhood. On her street, actually. Apparently, she'd been even more lost in thought than usual. She waved to the two little girls jumping rope in a driveway, and they giggled and waved back.

There weren't as many children in the neighborhood now as there had been when she was growing up.

"Guess they grew up too," she realized. There were still some kids, but it wasn't like the swarms of children who'd once played football and baseball in the street. And now grandchildren -- the children of her childhood playmates -- were appearing. A pang of some emotion she couldn't quite identify struck her, and she unconsciously rubbed her chest.

"And we're back to the lonely..."

She pulled into the garage and shut it behind her. The house was dark when she opened the door, and she rushed to turn on some lights. Morgan hated coming home to a dark house. It served as too much of a reminder that she was the only one living in the large, empty spaces.

"Not that Mom or Dad would have been home by now, anyway," she said, but she knew it was the principle of the matter. It was the idea that no matter how long she was gone, or how dark it got, no one else would ever be home to turn on a light. "And you've really got to work on the whole talking to yourself thing, Morgan."

The phone rang as she was pulling her dinner out of the oven. She juggled the phone and her hot dish, somehow managing to get almost all the way to the kitchen table without dropping the phone or her food, and without burning herself.

"Hello? Oh, jeez, wait -- Ow!"

"What the hell are you doing?" Cassidy sounded amused.

"Trying not to kill myself. You know my kitchen skills."

"Should I call back later?"

"No!" Morgan laid her napkin over her plate and sat back in her chair. "No, no. What's up?"

"Your number came up as a missed call, and you didn't leave a message. I was in a meeting. What's going on?'

Morgan cleared her throat, going for nonchalance. "Oh, not much. Gave my notice to Carl today." Cassidy didn't reply, and Morgan got worried. "Cass?"

"Wow."

"Good wow or bad wow?"

"Just... wow. That's... definitely sudden. Why? You have something else lined up?"

The unease Morgan had been feeling earlier returned full force. "Not really. I mean... no, I don't. I don't know what I'm gonna do yet, Cass, but I just got sick of being there. One of Carl's bags o' sleaze pinched me today. Again."

Cassidy made a sound of disgust. "Why does he take those clients? You can't tell me he doesn't know they're slime."

"He knows. I know he knows -- not that he ever says anything, but I know he knows. And I don't know why he takes them on, but I'm sick of trying to figure it out."

"You sure you know what you're doing, Morgan?"

Morgan sighed. "No. Not really. But I did it."

"Wish I could just up and change like that."

The wistful tone in her voice surprised Morgan. "You're not happy there? You're building spaceships, Cass! How cool is that?"

Cassidy laughed. "Yeah. I guess. They're a lot more of a pain in the ass than you'd think, these spaceships. Just had a bad day. Too many meetings, nothing accomplished, you know the drill."

Her friend sounded exhausted and depressed, and Morgan frowned. "I'm sorry."

"Not your doing, but thank you. So anyway, what's next?"

"I don't know yet. Guess we'll see what we can find, huh?"

"I'm sure you'll find something with no problem. Good luck, and you let me know what's going on, okay?"

"Definitely. Listen, dinner's getting cold and I don't think I can bring myself to go back into the kitchen. It's scary in there."

Cassidy laughed. "It sure is. I think Diego's at the door anyway -- I can hear the dogs barking. I'll talk to you soon, ‘kay, Mor?"

"Yep. You take care."

Morgan hung up and silence descended once again. She fidgeted while she ate her dinner, trying to ignore the quiet emptiness, but it gradually overwhelmed her. She jumped up and flipped on the TV, filling the house with noise and light. She had no idea what the screen was showing, but anything was better than the gloomy darkness.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Morgan entered the office the following morning and stopped short. There was a girl in her chair. Well, a woman. A young woman. She was probably twenty. Maybe. She was wearing a skirt that was entirely too short for the office, and a suit jacket that she was nearly falling out of. Her hair was a vivid, unvarying red, and her eyes were a bright green that was startling and completely unrealistic.

"Hello. The visitor's chair is on the other side of the desk."

The girl smiled poisonously at her, tapping Morgan's favorite pen against Morgan's favorite coffee mug. She gave a little wave, her cherry red acrylic fingernails clicking loudly against one another. "I'm Laura. The agency sent me over. I guess I'll be replacing you."

Morgan bit back the retort that first came to her, snatching the pen from Laura and returning it to her pen cup. "Looks like you'll be trying to," she finally said through gritted teeth.

Carl came out of his office. "Ah, Morgan. You two've met, that's good." He saw Morgan's look of suspicion and distaste, and he beckoned her into his office.

"Where'd she come from?"

Carl shrugged uneasily. "Well... you told me you weren't going to change your mind, so I figured that I had to be prepared. I made some calls yesterday."

She was surprised at the hurt she felt. Despite the fact that she knew -- and she'd told Carl -- that she was not indispensable, the speed at which he'd found a potential replacement was a little startling. She stared at him for a moment, and then she blurted out, "Did they send you pictures to choose from instead of résumés, or what?"

Carl looked confused, and Morgan glanced back towards the main part of the office and raised an eyebrow. He blushed. "I guess I need to have a word with her regarding proper office attire."

Morgan's grin was wicked. "Just wait until Mr. Valish's next appointment -- she'll learn quick enough."

Carl gave a little, embarrassed laugh. "Listen, Morgan, you know I'm really sorry about that -- "

 _Now he says something..._ she thought in irritation.

 __

"Your apology doesn't do me any good now, Carl. You need to tell your clients to keep their hands off the office staff." There was a tense pause. "What experience does she have?" Morgan asked, and Carl hesitated, a troubled look crossing his features. "Look, Carl, if she's going to take my place, I want to make sure she can handle it. Like I said yesterday, she's going to be doing more than just answering phones."

 __

"Isn't it my call whether or not she can handle it, Morgan?"

 __

Morgan tried to stifle her irritation. "Sure. Fine. I'll teach her as much as she can learn. You need to get her a chair." It was on his head if he hired a useless, bitchy chick with big breasts and no brain.

 __

__

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 __

__

"Wouldn't it be easier to do it this way?"

 __

Morgan rubbed her forehead, letting her breath out in a deep sigh. Laura's sickly sweet voice felt like an ice pick in her brain. The girl -- _woman_ , she reprimanded herself -- was challenging her on _everything_.

 __

"It might be a little bit easier, yes, but that's not how Mr. Levitt wants it done, all right? You might think I don't know what I'm doing because I'm only a couple of years older than you -- "

 __

"A couple years? Is that all? I never would have guessed!"

 __

Gritting her teeth, Morgan forged on. "Yes, a couple years. But I've been pretty much running this office for several years now. I know what works best. If you're going to be taking over, then yes, you're gonna have to find your own ways of doing stuff, but can you at least let me tell you how I've done it without interrupting me every two minutes?"

 __

Laura gave her an -- obviously false -- wounded look. "Well, jeez, you don't have to snap at me. I'm just trying to learn here!"

 __

Morgan looked away to keep from rolling her eyes, and her gaze caught Holly's. The younger woman was staring at the temp with unadulterated loathing. Laura had snottily introduced herself to the file clerk and then had entirely ignored her.

 __

The three women were alone in the office. Carl had left for an afternoon arbitration hearing, and Morgan was afraid there was going to be bloodshed soon. She was doubly afraid she'd be the perpetrator.

 __

"I need a break," Laura said, sighing dramatically as she got up and flounced out of the office.

 __

Holly turned pleading eyes on Morgan. "I'm sorry for everything even slightly rude or mean I've _ever_ said! You _can't_ leave, Morgan! You can't leave me with her!"

 __

Morgan grimaced. "I'm so sorry, Holly. But if she thinks that attitude and an innocent act are going to work with Carl, she's sadly mistaken. I give her two days."

 __

"He'd actually have to _be_ here to notice how horrible she is," Holly argued, and Morgan opened her mouth to say something, but she promptly shut it when the main office door flew open. Laura sashayed back in, and Morgan and Holly shot one last commiserative look at each other and then returned to their tasks.

 __

__

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 __

__

"This is Cassidy."

 __

"Oh my God, Cass, day from hell!"

 __

"What happened?" Cassidy sounded alarmed.

 __

"You should _see_ the temp Carl hired." Morgan rolled her eyes at the memory.

 __

"Already? Damn! That was quick."

 __

"That's what I said! She is _so_ useless. She's like _five_ , and she dresses like a secretary in a porno film!" Cassidy laughed, and Morgan couldn't help but smile. Just ranting to a sympathetic friend made her feel a little better. "So how was your day today? Better than yesterday, I hope."

 __

"Yeah, it was. One of our proposals got accepted!"

 __

"Cassidy, that's great!"

 __

"Yeah, I'm really pleased..."

 __

Morgan listened as Cassidy gave her the briefest -- unclassified -- details of the upcoming mission. It was pretty cool to have a rocket scientist for a best friend, Morgan thought, and it was a thought she'd often had before. Her attention was diverted by the landscape coming up on her right.

 __

"Oh my God," she blurted, interrupting her friend. "Cass, I just got the greatest idea! I gotta go!"

 __

"What?" The alarm was back in Cassidy's voice.

 __

"I gotta go!"

 __

"Morgan! Is everything okay?"

 __

"Yes! More than okay! I'll call you later!"

 __

She distractedly hung up, staring over the high hedges at the peak of the Matterhorn beyond. A smile bloomed over her face as the idea took shape. She swung into a turn lane towards a driveway marked _Shipping and Receiving_ , and she pulled up to the guardhouse.

 __

An older man, lean and wiry with craggy features, attired in a security guard's uniform, cautiously clambered out of the guardhouse. He motioned for her to stop. "You're not allowed to be here, ma'am."

 __

 _Ma'am? I'm a ma'am? What happened to miss?_ "I know. Look, I know this sounds crazy, but I'd like to apply for a position here. Well, maybe not _here_. In the park, I mean." She shut her mouth, trying to stem the nervous babble she could feel bubbling up.

 __

He stared at her without responding, and she said, "I'm serious!"

 __

"Ooookay. Well, then, you'll need to go to the Casting Center. You're going to turn around here, make a right at the light and then two more rights at the next two lights, and it'll be on your right hand side. It's a big yellow building. Says ‘Casting Center' in huge letters on the side. You can't miss it."

 __

She gave him a huge smile, trying to pretend she didn't realize he was talking to her as if she were a child. "Thanks so much!"

 __

He nodded warily. "Good luck," he told her stoically. His expression said, _You'll need it._

Morgan found the building with no problem and parked in one of the spaces marked _Guest_. She gave herself a cursory glance -- her clothes were neat and professional, if a little bit wrinkled from the day's wear, and her hair was still neatly up. The extra strong hold mousse she used worked wonders. Her bangs could use a trim, but that was nothing new. A quick swipe of lip gloss -- her only concession to makeup -- and she was ready to go.

She pushed open the double doors, noting how quiet the building was. Most of the lights were off, but the receptionist's desk was bathed in a soft, inviting glow.

The impeccably groomed young woman seated behind the desk was obviously clearing away her work for the night, and Morgan glanced at her watch. Five minutes to six -- quitting time. She wondered if she was too late, and just as she was about to turn around to exit, the woman looked up, her annoyed expression sliding smoothly away into a bright, patented Disney smile.

"May I help you?"

"Hi, yes, I'm interested in applying for a position in the park. I was told I should speak to someone here." She didn't think it necessary to mention who had told her or what the circumstances had been.

The woman smiled. Her nametag said Perla. It looked exactly like the nametags park employees wore. And now that Morgan thought about it, the guard she'd talked to had been wearing one as well. His name had been Henry.

"Yes, this is the right place!" Perla chirped. "Okay, there's several things you can do. There's a phone interview you can take, or you can fill out a paper application and a questionnaire." She peeked at the clock as she said the last part, and Morgan took pity on her.

"A phone interview sounds kind of interesting."

Perla smiled, a bit wryly. "It's definitely quicker. And it's very simple, one for yes, two for no, that sort of thing." She handed Morgan a card. "Just call this number and follow the instructions. After you finish the interview, there'll be further instructions for you to follow."

Morgan smiled at her. "Thanks very much."

"You're welcome. Good luck!" Perla said it a lot more warmly than Henry the security guard had.

Morgan kept the card clutched in her hand the whole way home.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

She groaned as she pulled into her driveway. Her neighbor, Adam -- the only one in the area that was remotely her age -- was watering his lawn. He waved, dropping the hose and ambling over. Adam was nice enough for short periods of time, but he could be extremely self-centered and annoyingly talkative. He was tall and gangly, with shaggy, light brown hair and a fair complexion, and he always put her in mind of a wobbly fawn.

"Hey, Morgan."

"Adam, hi."

"How're you doing, haven't seen you in forever!"

"Been around. Working a lot. You?" She was bubbling over with excitement, dying to tell someone her latest plan, but she didn't want Adam to be the first person she told.

She realized with a sudden sharp ache that she really wanted to tell her mom, and she bit down hard on her lip to stop the tears that sprang to her eyes. Adam was prattling on about something, and she did her best to tune in.

"...he should be here and all moved in by this weekend."

Morgan blinked. "What? Sorry, missed that."

He glanced at her for a moment, obviously wondering if she'd been listening to him at all. "My friend Dean is going to be staying with me for a while -- his company transferred him, and it was really sudden, and you know, the house payment is kind of a lot, and ever since Paul left, it's been a little bit tough. So Dean's gonna stay a while. It should be fun, even though we haven't really seen each other since high school. But we were really close back then, and it's a big house. I think it'll be okay. He's a really great guy, you'll love him."

"That sounds nice," Morgan said, trying to sound enthused. She wondered if he was trying to convince her or himself. _Oh joy. Two Adams. Paul was bad enough! Maybe it's time to consider selling..._ But her eye caught the lines of the house behind her, and she knew she could never sell. The emptiness was hard to deal with, and the memories were painful sometimes, but they were all she had left.

Adam was babbling on again, something about Paul -- his ex-partner and favorite subject. Morgan had no idea how to extricate herself. She hit on an idea, and when Adam paused for breath, she broke in with, "I'd love to stay and chat with you, but I have groceries." She pointed at her trunk with a thumb. "Milk and... stuff. But it's been great talking to you, and I can't wait to meet your friend!"

He looked disappointed, but he nodded and wandered back to his own yard. She felt bad for lying to him, but if she didn't give him _some_ excuse, she'd _never_ get away from him, and she had an interview to do.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Morgan stifled her groan as she pressed the "one" button on her phone once more. She'd lost count of how many questions she'd answered.

 _Does anyone actually answer these questions truthfully if the answer reflects negatively on them?_ she wondered incredulously, but she was careful not to make a sound, just in case it changed the way the phone was registering her answers. But she couldn't believe these questions. Who would answer yes to whether it was okay to take five dollars out of the till with the intention of paying it back later?

 __

This had to be how they weeded out the _complete_ idiots -- there had to be much more to the interviewing process. Otherwise she was going to have to revise her opinion of Disney in a big way.

 __

"Congratulations! You have completed the phone portion of the audition process."

 __

Morgan rolled her eyes at the phrasing, but she sighed in relief.

 __

"Please press one to schedule a group audition with one of our casting agents."

 __

Morgan blinked in surprised gratitude, quickly pressing one. She went through the process, carefully staring at her phone to make sure she hit the right buttons to schedule a "group audition" for Thursday morning. Carl would just have to do without her for a few hours.

 __

She smirked as she hung up the phone. _Guess we'll see how Laura does handling the office for a few hours..._

If she remembered Carl's schedule correctly -- and she pretty much always did -- Thursday was a light morning. While she was glad for Carl, she was a little disappointed that Laura wouldn't get a baptism by fire.

Finally done with the interview, she decided to check her email. After the never ending battle with spam, she'd whittled her inbox down to half a dozen new emails. She jumped with surprise when she saw who the latest email was from. The surprise was quickly followed by a strange sense of dread. She remembered when she'd received love notes -- or what passed for them -- from that address, when her heart had fluttered whenever she'd seen it.

"Oh, great," Morgan sighed. "What do you want, Rob?"

Out of habit, her gaze went to the space on the shelf by her desk where the picture of her and Rob Monroe had rested for several years. Their relationship had started in high school and progressed through college. It had been rocky before her family's deaths, but it had completely fallen apart during the grief that had swallowed her afterward. She'd needed someone to hold her and soothe away the night terrors, and Rob -- never an overly affectionate man -- had been completely unable to give her what she needed.

"Cold bastard," she muttered, remembering the way he'd sat uneasily next to her during the funeral. She'd been a sobbing wreck, and she didn't remember much about the day, but she did remember that Rob had had his hands in his lap, not even helping to shore her up the way Jeremy and Cassidy and her then boyfriend -- now husband -- Diego had.

They hadn't talked for over two years, and then she had received an email from him, completely out of the blue. It had shocked the hell out of her. Very short and very neutral -- clearly testing the waters. She had responded in kind, and they'd begun a very cautious email exchange. She wasn't sure why she was talking to him, and Cassidy, Jeremy, Holly, and nearly everyone who knew told her that it was a mistake, but she couldn't quite bring herself to ignore his emails.

 _Hello, Morgan._

 _Hope you're doing well. I'm settled into the new apartment, and things are going pretty good for me. It's a lot bigger than the last one, and very comfortable. Not that I'm home a lot -- long hours, as usual._

 _There aren't many people our age in the area, but again -- I'm never home anyway. I'm hoping to take a short vacation soon, time to decompress, at least for a few days. Then back to the grind._

 _How are you? Anything exciting going on? Still working for Levitt? Have you given any more thought to going back to school, Morgan?_

 _Hope to hear from you soon._

 _Rob_

"Wow," she muttered. "And I thought I was lonely. Least I have Cass and Jeremy and Zach and Mandy. And Adam, if it comes to that!"

In all of his emails, Rob had never mentioned friends. They were all about work, or his family, or what he'd acquired lately. There'd been one brief mention of a mutual acquaintance, but that had been all. It was actually a little bit sad, and she couldn't help but pity him.

Morgan did her best to harden her heart. "He chose his lifestyle," she reminded herself.

It was clear that while Rob was apparently doing very well financially, he wasn't happy with his life. She knew him well enough to know that by the tone of his email -- not that his emails were ever overly friendly, that wouldn't be him.

Rob had spent much of their relationship impressing upon her how important it was for one to do well for oneself, for one to be financially settled and well taken care of, and that a job's worth was based on the salary it offered and not the personal happiness it provided. One of their last arguments had begun when he'd tried to console her by saying, "At least your father had his affairs in order."

Now, she could see how important it had been, but at the time, all she'd been able to think about was that her mom and her dad and her brother were _gone_ , and who _cared_ that their affairs were in order.

Tiredly, Morgan rubbed her forehead and closed the email without answering. All of the doubts and uncertainty she'd once felt about her life's goals and her career choices -- even her decision making abilities -- came flooding back. What the hell was she doing quitting a steady, well paying job to work in an amusement park?

"What are you, sixteen, Mor? Come on, it's time to grow up." The words -- said with wry amusement and not a little condescension -- floated into her head, perfectly formed in Rob's cultured tones.

"Oh God," she groaned, scrubbing at her suddenly watery eyes. "This is why talking to him is a bad idea."

Morgan tried to ignore the doubts; after all, if she listened to them, she'd probably end up like Rob. Rich and miserable wasn't something she wanted, but at the same time, with all the memories assaulting her, it was incredibly difficult for her to break out of Rob's mindset.

The exhilaration she'd felt after finishing the interview had dwindled down to a confused glimmer of hope. She glanced at the clock. It was too late to call Cassidy, and Jeremy was either working the night shift or out, so it looked like another night with Ben & Jerry and Gus Grissom and the gang. Her big news would have to wait until tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

 

"Law Offices of Carl Levitt, this is Laura, how can we help you today?"

Laura's singsongy telephone voice was driving Morgan mad, but she nodded approvingly at the temp. It was either this or a monotone that was certain to push desperate clients to desperate measures.

The younger woman's smug smile melted into a scowl and then a wicked grin as she thrust the phone at Morgan. "It's for you. Some guy named Jeremy. Is it a personal call? I thought they weren't allowed."

Morgan took the phone from her without replying. "Jeremy! I'm glad you called, I was getting worried. Can you make it Saturday night?"

"What? Saturday? I'm working Saturday, Morgan! Told you that _last_ Saturday."

"Oh, that's great, I'm so glad! Well, thanks for calling and letting me know."

"Ooh, is this a code? I won't forget to feed Fluffy! The duck farts at midnight!"

Morgan couldn't help her laughter. "I've gotta go, I'll call you later."

"Did you really quit? Who's the Mother Goose reject answering the phone? And what's this Cassidy tells me about Disneyland? Why don't you tell me anything?"

"You're always working!" she protested. "Gotta go! I'll talk to you later."

She hung up and was proceeding to teach Laura how to put together a new client file when her cell phone beeped a text message alert. She smiled when she heard the sound; she'd known there was no way Jeremy was going to let her get away with that. Her friends were the only thing keeping her sane. Laura's very presence made her twitch. Carl had taken to staying in his office with the door shut.

It was clear he couldn't stand the temp, but he hadn't sent her back to the staffing agency. Morgan wasn't sure why, but she could venture a guess. It was probably a combination of things -- desperation at Morgan's sudden departure, stubbornness because she'd told him Laura was a bad choice, and the hope that if he stayed with the disaster that was Laura long enough, Morgan would relent and stay on.

Of course, she realized that last part might be wishful thinking. _Everyone wants to be wanted_ , she thought.

The main door opened, and Tyrone Baker lumbered in. The man was huge, nearly as wide as he was tall, and he was tall enough for his head to brush the top of the doorjamb. It was all muscle. Every visible inch of his skin was scarred and marked and tattooed, and there was a knife scar from his left earlobe to the bridge of his nose. Another scar of indeterminate origin took up half of his enormous right forearm. He stopped in front of the receptionist's desk, peering at Laura as if she were some sort of exotic delicacy.

The arrogant smirk Morgan had thought was permanently frozen onto Laura's face faltered, and then completely disappeared. She inched closer to Morgan, who nearly laughed as she picked up the phone and buzzed Carl's office.

"Mr. Baker is here," she told him, and then she added, "If it's all right with you, I'm going to leave now, for the appointment I told you about the other day. I'll be back in a few hours."

"You're leaving Laura out there with Tyrone?" he said, quietly amused.

"She's a capable individual; she can handle it," Morgan said smoothly, choosing to ignore Laura's wide, panicked eyes.

"Okay, please let Tyrone know I'll be out in a few moments."

She hung up the phone and turned to Tyrone. "He'll be right out, Mr. Baker. Please have a seat. I have to leave -- there's some business I have to take care of, but I'm sure Laura here will be more than happy to help you with anything you need."

He nodded wordlessly and took a seat in one of the visitor's chairs. It creaked and groaned under his bulk.

"Where are you going?" Laura hissed.

"I have something I need to take care of -- I believe I mentioned it yesterday or the day before. I'll be back in several hours."

"You can't go!" Laura grabbed Morgan's arm, her long fingernails digging painfully into the flesh.

"Excuse me? Let go of my arm, please."

Laura threw a panicked look towards Tyrone, who had his head bowed as he contemplated the ground at his feet. "What about him?" she whispered, almost inaudibly.

"I'm sorry, what?" Morgan said, her voice dripping with concern as she thoroughly enjoyed the other woman's discomfiture.

Laura jerked her head towards the client once more. Morgan smiled and mouthed, "You'll be fine." Picking up her purse, she left the office and managed to make it halfway down the hall before she had to lean against the wall and laugh until she was gasping for breath.

"Oh God, that was priceless!"

A woman heading down the hall stared warily at her, and Morgan did her best to pull herself together.

The best part was that Tyrone Baker was one of the nicest clients Laura would probably meet. He'd had a hard youth -- gangs, absentee father, the whole sorry shebang. He'd found God in prison and had completely reformed his ways. He was polite and generally friendly, though he rarely spoke unless spoken to.

Tyrone wasn't exactly a teddy bear, but he wasn't the maniacal homicidal rapist Morgan was sure Laura thought he was.

Laura's expression was enough to keep a smile on Morgan's face for the entire trip to the Casting Center. Then the nerves set in. She was actually more nervous about this than she'd expected to be. She didn't have a lot of experience with interviews. She'd only ever gone through the process once, when she'd interviewed for several positions and had landed the job with Carl. That had gone well, but she had a feeling this was going to be very different.

"Any place that calls its interviews auditions probably isn't gonna have run of the mill interviewing techniques."

She realized she was talking to herself again, and she forced herself to stop. She took a few deep, calming breaths to steady herself, and she happened to glance into the car next to her as she did so. The girl sitting in the driver's seat was probably seventeen or eighteen, and she was taking calming breaths of her own.

They tentatively smiled at each other, and then the girl jumped as if startled. She lifted her cell phone to her ear, and Morgan took the opportunity to climb out of her car. She smoothed down her skirt and, clutching the leather portfolio that held her résumé and other paperwork, headed for the building.

Morgan was terrified that she was going to be the oldest one in there, that everyone was going to be the same age as the girl in the car. Not that twenty five was old, but to teenagers -- kids like Holly -- it could be ancient. Maybe the interviewers were looking for kids.

She really wanted this job. She hadn't known how much she wanted it until she realized how much she was worried about not getting it. She didn't need it -- there were plenty of other jobs she could go find, and even if she had no luck for a while, she'd be okay -- but she really wanted it.

The reception area was full of people looking just as nervous as she felt. Women and men, mostly young, clean cut high school or college kids. There were a few people who looked to be in their mid to late twenties, but there was a woman in her late forties or early fifties, and a man about the same age, maybe a little bit older. There were about thirty people in all.

At the desk, she was greeted by a polished, smiling young man named David. He signed her in, carefully checked her identification, and bade her to have a seat. She found one next to a frightened looking young guy in his early twenties. He smiled shakily at her, and she smiled back.

"This is less of an audition and more of a cattle call," he muttered, and she chuckled.

"Definitely more people than I expected," she said, and he nodded. "I'm Morgan."

"Ian. The nametags make that part easier, don't they? Haven't had to ask anyone who works here what their name is."

She nodded. An unobtrusive door -- it was flush with the wall, and painted to blend in with the design on the wall around it -- opened, and a smartly dressed woman stuck her head out and called five names. Ian was one of them. He jumped up, gave her another nervous smile, and entered the room. Morgan noted that the girl that had been sitting in the car next to her had also been called in.

The wait stretched on, and Morgan tried not to fidget. She compromised by arranging and rearranging the papers in her portfolio. Another group was called in to another interview room, and she listened in vain for her name.

Finally, two or three groups later, she was called. She filed into the room with three other women and an older guy, and she paused next to one of the chairs arranged in a circle. There was no desk. The room was decorated warmly, with a window that looked out over the parking lot. Everything was rounded and smooth; there were no sharp angles in any of the décor. It looked more like a room for group therapy than one for a job interview.

At the interviewer's -- Kimberly's -- gesture, they all took a seat. She smiled at them all, making eye contact with each person, Morgan noted critically, and then she said, "Let's begin, shall we?"

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

"Hey! Why didn't you call me back? Or text me?" Jeremy sounded annoyed and slightly worried, and Morgan smiled at his concern.

"I did call you back! There was no answer! Nothing but that monotone message you have on there -- and you _really_ need to change that."

"Hello, voice mail _is_ a valid option. Just because you don't like my message doesn't mean you can get out of leaving me one. How can I complain about your message like you complain about mine if you don't leave me one to complain about?"

"Whatever," she said with a laugh, shaking her head as she tried to puzzle out the Jeremy logic. "I'll be sure to leave an entire message in words of one syllable next time."

"I'll hold you to that. So where were you?"

"Interview," she said concisely, wanting to drag it out as much as she possibly could; she hadn't had fun news to share with her friends in quite a long time. She was pretty sure he'd be able to hear the smile in her voice no matter how brusque she tried to be -- she couldn't seem to get it off her face.

"For Disneyland? Was Cass messing with me?"

Morgan laughed. "Was she messing with you _again_ , you mean? It _is_ her favorite hobby. No, this time she was being truthful with you, unusual as that may be. It was for Disneyland." She paused.

"Well? Well?"

She laughed again. "You're talking to Disneyland's newest cast member. Well, maybe not newest since they did hire some people afterwards. One of the newest, let's just say."

"Really? Congratulations! That's so cool! So you can get us into the park for free now?"

"Jeremy! Nice to know where your interest lies!"

"I'm _kidding_! Well, sorta. Can you?"

"Not yet."

"Bummer. So what are you gonna do there?"

"I don't know yet -- attractions, that much I know. But orientation is this weekend, and they tell me then." The smile had morphed into a strange, bubbly giggle just behind her voice, but she couldn't seem to get rid of it any more than she'd been able to ditch the smile.

"Does Cass know?"

"No, I haven't talked to her yet. I think she was in proposal meetings all day."

"Well, I'm off tonight -- "

"Wow! Mark this day on the calendar!" she teased.

"Shut up," he growled playfully. "I've worked twelve days in a row, it's about time I got a night off. Damn managers with their damn maternity leaves."

"How dare they reproduce!" she said, laughing.

"You said it! And all at once, too. Must be something in the water."

"You better watch out, you'll catch next."

He snorted. "Right. Lemme see if Cass can meet up with us. You up for a drink?"

"Oh, God, yes. With my new job -- how exciting is that? -- and the damn temp at work!"

"She sounds cringeworthy," Jeremy said with a laugh.

"You have no idea."

"Okay, let me call Cass and I'll call you right back."

"Call me at home!" She was pulling into the driveway.

"'Kay!"

Jeremy hung up, and she headed inside to shower and change.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

An hour later, the three of them were gathered around a table in their favorite haunt. It was a TGIFriday's they'd been meeting in since before they were old enough to drink, and it was one of the only restaurants Morgan still felt comfortable in. None of them drank much, but they liked to get together for a drink now and then -- it was a little more special than their standard Saturday evening movie nights, which were a tradition that was _not_ taken lightly.

They were attracting their fair share of attention from the other patrons and some of the staff. Morgan was flushed and happy as she told her friends about the last few days. Jeremy nursed his drink and observed the other diners through ice blue eyes, his clothes pristine and his hair impeccably styled to look just slightly tousled. Occasionally, he'd gift someone with a crookedly mischievous half smile, flirting from afar. Cassidy, blonde and petite, watched him fondly as she listened to Morgan, either oblivious or uncaring of the appreciative looks she was receiving.

"It was weird," Morgan was saying.

"Weird how?" Cass took a sip of her drink.

"It wasn't a standard one on one interview -- they called it a group audition, and there were five of us. It was like... baptism by fire, like they were pitting us against each other to see how we interacted with other people."

"Well, that makes sense," Jeremy broke in, his ears and mind on the conversation even if his gaze kept roving. "That job is all about working with people."

"Yeah, but it increased the pressure like you wouldn't believe. Not only did I have to worry about my answers, I had to worry about theirs too."

"What kind of questions did they ask?"

Morgan finished off her drink and tried to signal the bartender. "Pretty much what you'd expect. How we interact with people, what kind of stressful customer service situations we've been in, and the kicker -- why we want to work at the park." She smiled smugly, remembering the impressed look on Kimberly's face. "I nailed that one."

They both leaned forward, and she nearly laughed at their intrigued expressions.

"Well? Spill!" Jeremy ordered.

Morgan remembered her answer, and suddenly, she wasn't quite sure she wanted to share the whole thing. It had just kind of streamed out of her at the time. She decided to see if she could sidestep telling them. "You remember what Mr. Halter called me."

"Morgan Huston, queen of BS," Cassidy laughed.

"Yep, just put those skills to work," she bluffed, but she couldn't hold eye contact with either one of them. When she finally looked up, it was to see them both staring expectantly at her.

"Tell," Cass demanded.

Morgan shrugged. "The other people basically said they wanted to work there because they'd heard it was a good place to work or because they'd always wanted to work there." She paused, but one glance into their earnest faces and she knew she had to tell the truth. She loved these two more than she loved anyone else left in her life, and they deserved to hear her real answer, not something blithe made up on the spot.

"I said that I'd always wanted to work there -- same as everyone else -- but that I remember my dad... I remember him taking me and Jason when we were little, and how magical and safe and perfect the whole place seemed, and I want to help make that magic for other little kids."

Jeremy and Cassidy were both silent for a moment, watching her, and she shrugged again. "Anyway..."

"Less BS in that answer than you're taking credit for," Cass said quietly, her green eyes full of sympathy and shared grief.

"Maybe," Morgan admitted. "Anyway, it worked." She tried to grin wickedly, and it was sincere enough to make her friends laugh.

Their server brought them another round of drinks just as a runner brought out their dinner.

"To new jobs!" Cassidy said, raising her glass.

"And new friends," Jeremy added with a considering look at the server. He winked at Jeremy before moving away, and Cassidy groaned good-naturedly, smacking her friend playfully on the arm as they all settled in to eat.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Morgan smiled, singing along to the radio as she drove down her street. The two and a half drinks she'd had were not nearly enough to get her drunk, but she was pleasantly relaxed. That plus the exhilaration of her new job had her in a very good mood.

There was a very hot guy in Adam's driveway, working on a motorcycle.

Morgan blinked in surprise and tried not to wreck as she stared. She carefully took a second look, peering into the pool of light emanating from the open garage. He was crouched down by the bike, so she couldn't tell how tall he was, but he was lean and tanned, with dark brown hair, cut short and invitingly rumpled. He was wearing loose black pants and a sleeveless white undershirt -- what her brother had called a wifebeater, to her mother's dismay. The mystery mechanic was intent on his work and didn't notice her staring, which was definitely a good thing.

She pulled into her garage and took stock of herself. She looked okay -- she had miraculously managed _not_ to feed her shirt at dinner, which was rare. She didn't _think_ she was too intoxicated to introduce herself, but if she _were_ tipsy enough to make an idiot of herself, would she know? Probably not, she decided.

"Better wait ‘til tomorrow." Sticking her head out the garage door, Morgan got a perfect rear view of him crouched down, so she paused admiringly for a moment. He was obviously Adam's friend -- there was no accounting for taste, she decided -- and her new neighbor, so she should have plenty of time to ogle him later.

She grabbed her purse and her new hire package, which she'd taken to show her friends. Just looking at the brightly colored portfolio made her laugh in delight. She could deal with bitchy Laura and sulky Carl because she only had to do it for one more week.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

He was out again the next evening, still tinkering. Morgan strode down to the end of her driveway to get her mail, and he looked up and smiled. She almost stumbled; he was even better looking up close, and he had the most amazing smile she'd ever seen. It made his serious, somber-looking face light up -- she'd always read about that happening, but she'd never actually seen it. Getting herself under control, she smiled back.

"Nice bike," she said, with a nod towards it. She knew nothing about motorcycles, but even she could tell it wasn't a dirt bike. It had, as her father would have said, potential.

He shrugged, still smiling. "Not yet, but it will be. Thanks."

"I'm Morgan Huston. I live next door. You probably figured that out since my car's in the garage, hmm?"

He laughed. "Dean Russo. Nice to meet you." He looked at his grease covered hand and grimaced. "I'll shake your hand later."

"It's a deal," she said with a grin. "So you know Adam from school? High school?"

Dean nodded, reaching around the bike to adjust something. His shirt slid to the side, revealing a long line of toned, muscled flank. Morgan's eyes focused on it until she realized she was staring, and then she tore her gaze away. He suddenly shifted, straightening again, and she was grateful she hadn't been a few seconds slower. "Sorry, I wanted to get that before it fell off. It still might, knowing this piece of junk."

She laughed. "I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from your work. I'll just -- "

"No, it's no problem," he said quickly, setting down the wrench he held.

Morgan hesitated, thrilled that a guy as good looking as Dean didn't seem to want her to go as far away as she could as fast as possible.

"It's really nice to meet someone around the same age," he added, and her heart sank.

 _That explains it,_ she thought in disappointment.

"The only people I've met are older ladies," he added. "They all come to visit Adam, and for some reason, they bring him food."

Dean looked puzzled, and she chuckled. He shrugged as he got to his feet, saying, "Well, he says the visits have been more frequent than usual lately."

 _I'll bet_ , Morgan thought as she glanced up at him. _They all want to stare at you!_ He was tall -- she was usually at eye level with men, especially when she was wearing heels, but he stood a good half a head taller than her.

Sneaking a peek into the open garage to make sure Adam wasn't around, she told Dean in a low tone, "They feel sorry for him. It's been hard since -- " She stopped, realizing she had no idea how much Dean knew about his new housemate. She wasn't about to out him if Dean didn't know. "Since his last roommate moved out," she finished, hoping it sounded smoother to him than it had to her.

Dean eyed her, and she had the feeling he was studying her -- assessing her. She was suddenly struck by the realization that she knew nothing about him either. For all she knew, flirting with him was as useless an endeavor as flirting with Adam -- or Jeremy. But it was fun, and he was still pleasant to look at. And he seemed very nice.

"Don't worry," he told her after a pause. "I know. About Paul and Scott and Juan and all the rest who came before. Adam and I haven't talked much since high school, but he's always been honest with me." He laughed a little. "He was honest with me about himself before he was honest with anyone else. It doesn't bother me."

She smiled. _Well, that answers that question -- not gay. Single is a whole ‘nother matter._ "Good. I'm glad. That it doesn't bother you, I mean. Because if it _did_ bother you, _that_ would bother me."

His answering smile was hesitant, and Morgan wondered if she'd said too much. She realized, though, that she'd told him the truth. It would have bothered her. She nodded once more.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Dean. Good luck with your bike. I'd better get going. Got a lot to do, and I have a pretty early morning tomorrow."

"Oh? Work?"

She laughed excitedly, and she was mortified to hear how much like a giggle it sounded. She calmed herself, as much as she could. "Orientation. For a new job."

"Well, it sounds like you're being oriented for an exciting job."

Morgan nodded, but she was suddenly unsure if she wanted to tell him. Getting the job she'd realized she wanted so badly was thrilling, and she was very glad to be getting out of Carl's office and into something fun, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to tell this very cute, very nice guy all about it. Somehow it seemed... adolescent all of a sudden. But she had started talking about it, and she didn't want to be evasive now. Some girls could pull of being cryptic and mysterious -- she knew she just seemed abrasive and off-putting when she tried it.

"I, um, I've got a new job. At... at Disneyland."

He smiled, and she flushed with embarrassment.

"I know it's not -- I mean, it doesn't sound -- " Her face burned even hotter as she heard herself stammering.

"It sounds like fun, actually. Much more fun than my job."

Morgan glanced suspiciously at him, but his smile was honest, not patronizing. His smile crinkled up the corners of his eyes -- deep, dark, beautiful brown eyes, she noticed, wide and friendly and sparkling, and her own lips twitched in reply.

"I hope so. Guess I'll find out tomorrow. What do you do? Adam said your company just transferred you?"

It was his turn to look down. He fidgeted with his tools, arranging and rearranging them. "I sell block. It's really not exciting."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Block?"

"Block. Concrete masonry block. For buildings, or walls. Like that." He waved an arm at the small garden wall separating her yard from Adam's.

"Oh. Okay." She thought for a moment. "I don't think I've ever known anyone who sells block. Come to think of it, I don't think I ever really thought about where block comes from."

He laughed. "Neither did I, until I started selling it. I worked out of our plant in Escondido -- I grew up in Oceanside -- and one of our salesmen from the Anaheim plant just retired, so I volunteered. It was time to move away from home."

Before she could answer, Adam came out of the garage, a cell phone in his hand. "Dean? Your phone's ringing. Again. Hi, Morgan."

Dean sighed, wiping his hands on his pants. "Speaking of the job... duty calls. I left it inside for a reason, Adam!"

"Oh." Adam looked abashed as Dean took the phone from him.

"It was really nice to meet you, Morgan. I should take this," he said, already raising the shrilly beeping phone to his ear.

"Nice to meet you too! I'm sure I'll talk to you soon. Hey, Adam," she said belatedly.

"You staying for dinner?" Adam asked. He lowered his voice as Dean answered the phone and walked a short distance away. "He's great, isn't he? I told you you'd like him."

"I do. He seems like a great guy. And no, I can't stay for dinner, but thanks for asking. I have orientation at eight o'clock tomorrow."

"In the morning? On a Saturday?" Adam looked horrified.

She smiled. "Yep. It's not that early. Training's at 4:30 next weekend. And yes, that is 4:30 am."

His eyes got huge. "Where the hell are you working?"

"Disneyland. They do training before the park opens, I guess."

"You are not working at Disneyland," Adam argued, a skeptical look on his face.

"I am! Got hired yesterday."

He laughed. "Good for you. I know how much you love that place. What are you doing there?"

"I don't know yet. They tell me at the end of orientation, so I guess I'll find out this Sunday."

"Cool."

"No, that is _not_ what they ordered -- no -- no! Dammit, I think I left the PO on my desk. He's full of crap! Call them back and get his cell phone number and _I'll_ call him. Yes, right now!"

Adam and Morgan both glanced at Dean. He looked extremely annoyed, stiffly standing with his arms folded over his chest, phone jammed between shoulder and ear. His face was dark and dangerous, and tension radiated from him.

Adam sighed. "He's always on that damn phone, they never leave him alone."

Morgan sent a sympathetic look Dean's way. "Poor guy. Listen, I'd better go. Tell Dean I said bye, and that it was nice to meet him, okay?"

Adam smirked. "I bet it was nice to meet him."

Morgan rolled her eyes. "Bye, Adam." With one last glance at Dean, who was again arguing into his phone and gesturing vehemently with one arm, she headed back up the driveway and into her house.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

"Ohhh," Morgan groaned, resting her head on the back of the couch.

"Tough day?" Diego asked from the loveseat he was sharing with Cassidy. The two of them were curled cozily together, and Morgan studied them, trying to hide her envy. Cassidy was small and blonde, and had always been described as cute, and Diego was much taller and broader, with dark hair and eyes and rich café au lait skin. They were a striking couple.

 _And happy,_ Morgan thought wistfully. _That's the important part. ___

They were in between movies. It was only the three of them this Saturday; the group fluctuated in size from two to eight, or even ten. One time they'd had fourteen. They took turns hosting, and it was a tradition that they only cancelled in dire emergencies. It was the only way their group of friends could be sure to keep in contact with each other, considering their very busy and very different work schedules.

"It was just long. It was all class, you know? Lots of rules and vocab and team building exercises. Typical new job stuff."

"Sounds boring as hell," Cassidy observed, popping a piece of candy into her mouth.

"It really was," Morgan grinned. "But tomorrow should definitely be better. We get to go out into the park, and then we get our assignments."

"What do you want to do?" Diego asked. He was mystified by the concept of actually working at Disneyland.

Morgan shrugged. "Dunno. Haven't decided. And it's not as if I get to pick. They tell me where to work, and off I go. Hiho, Hiho, y'know?" she laughed, and Cassidy rolled her eyes. "I'm hoping for anything but Fantasyland, which is where I hear a lot of the new cast members get assigned."

"Cast members," Diego said with a snicker.

"Hey, gotta use the vocab," Morgan shot back, tossing a piece of popcorn at her friend. "Tomorrowland would be cool. Or Haunted Mansion. Or Pirates."

Diego nodded, shifting so that he pushed Cassidy off of him. "Sorry, babe. Bathroom," he told her when she protested. Heading out of the room, he added, "Pick the next movie already."

Morgan took advantage of the break to retrieve beverages from the kitchen for the three of them. Faint movement in the front yard caught her attention, and she crept into the living room to take a closer look. After a moment, she raced back into the kitchen and beckoned to Cassidy. Giggling like schoolgirls, they crouched on the sofa and peered through the sheer curtains into Adam's yard. _Dean's yard, too, now, I guess,_ Morgan thought. _He certainly seems to think so._

"Can he see us?" Cass whispered, and Morgan shook her head.

"Nope. We can see out, they can't see in. Why do you think Mom _bought_ these curtains?" she said with a laugh.

"Shh," Cassidy warned, but she raised her head a little higher, reassured by Morgan's words. She watched appraisingly as Dean worked with the hedge clippers, his arm muscles flexing and tensing, his face serious as he concentrated on the job. He had headphones on, but he was not reacting to the music at all. Morgan knew she would have been moving to the beat -- unconsciously and embarrassingly.

"Well?" Morgan finally asked.

Cassidy shrugged. "He's okay, I guess."

"Cass! He's gorgeous!"

"If you like that sort. He's not my type."

Morgan stared at her and then stared out the window. Dean was tall and lean, with broad, linebacker's shoulders tapering to a trim waist. His arms were muscular but not scarily so, his chest well-defined but not overworked. He raised an arm to swipe at his brow, and she caught a glimpse of his hand -- large and strong looking, with long, nimble, artist’s fingers. Dean was _definitely_ her type, and she couldn't see how he couldn't be everybody's type. The man looked good enough to eat.

She thought of Diego. He was broader -- bigger -- hard and muscled and solid. His features were blunt, a little squarer than Dean's. She considered him handsome enough, but definitely not the kind of guy to make her pulse race. He sure seemed to make Cass happy, though, and she guessed that was all that mattered.

"I guess," she said skeptically, before realizing Cassidy was struggling not to laugh. She smacked Cass with a couch pillow. "Brat! Stop teasing me!"

"You're so easy to tease! He _is_ nice to look at, that's for sure."

"Who is?"

Both women jumped. Cassidy turned halfway on the sofa, peering over her shoulder. "You are, my gorgeous hubby," she said with a winning smile.

"Right," Diego snorted. "Who are we spying on?" He wriggled his way onto the couch between them, staring out the window. "Oh, Morgan's new eye candy!"

He looked at Morgan with an eyebrow raised. "He's gardening?"

"He's not gardening! He's trimming the hedges! Someone has to; they haven't been trimmed on Adam's side of the wall since Paul moved out."

"He's gardening. He's gay."

"Diego!" Cass admonished, just as Morgan said, "He is not! You mow the lawn -- how is that any different?"

"He's gardening, and he lives with Adam. I rest my case. The prosecution needs no further evidence."

"They're friends from high school! He's _not_ gay. He knows Adam's gay, and he told me it doesn't bother him! Would he have -- "

"Of course it doesn't, because he is too." Diego was smirking.

"He's not."

"All right, children. Let's go watch a movie now. Maybe I can find a cartoon for you," Cassidy said as she headed back towards the den. "You know, Mor, there is one way to know for sure. You have to sleep with him."

"Cass!" Morgan felt her face flushing.

"You know you wanna."

"Well, yeah. Look at him!" she exclaimed, doing just that one last time before she followed Diego back through the kitchen.

"Once doesn't prove anything," Diego added. "You have to bed him, hmm... half a dozen times should do it."

"Shut up, the movie's starting," Morgan told him, pushing herself as far down as she possibly could in the couch cushions. Just the thought of sleeping with Dean -- let alone multiple times -- made her feel like her hair was about to catch fire.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Morgan waved from her car to Dean, who was shooting hoops in Adam's -- his -- driveway, into Paul's old basket. Adam constantly complained about the hoop and called it an eyesore, but he'd never taken it down, just like he'd never removed any of the other visible, tangible memories of his departed lover.

Pulling into her garage, she got out of the car, concentrating on gathering all her things. She jumped a little in surprise when she realized Dean was leaning against the jamb of the garage door, the basketball tucked under his arm.

"Hey," she said with a smile. He looked good, even though he was slightly rumpled from exercise -- possibly even better, she mused.

Dean smiled back, wiping one arm across his forehead. "Hey. Sorry, did I startle you?"

"No, it's okay, really. Just surprised. But a good surprise." _Shut up now, Morgan..._

  
  


Dean ducked his head, grinning. He looked up at her again. "Just came to see how it went this weekend. The orientation, I mean."

"Pretty good! Didn't get Fantasyland, which is what I was dreading, so that's good." She laughed. "This poor guy -- he was probably barely eighteen -- he opened the envelope with his assignment, and he groaned, and all his friends were saying, ‘What? What'd you get?' He dropped his head into his hands, and he mumbled, ‘I got Small World.' They all made sympathetic noises and patted him on the back. It was funny. And I'm _so_ glad not to be him, you have no idea."

Dean grinned. "That is funny. Poor guy -- that song drove me crazy even when I was little -- I can't imagine hearing it day after day after day!"

"No kidding. Time to find a different job, really fast!"

"So, what'd you get?"

Morgan beamed. "Space Mountain! I have no idea why they gave it to me, except maybe I'm a few years older than most of the new attractions people, and they don't want it to look like it's being completely run by a bunch of kids. But I'm not complaining!"

"That's great!" He looked genuinely happy for her, and it only made her good mood grow. "Sounds like a lot of fun -- Space Mountain was always my favorite ride as a kid, but I haven't been to Disneyland in years."

Her smile faltered a little. "Me either. It's been... at least four years."

The last time she had gone to the park for fun -- before this whole crazy job thing -- she and Rob had been a happy couple, and she'd still had a family. It was amazing to think so much had changed for her in such a short amount of time.

She surfaced from the brief lapse into memory to find Dean studying her face. He didn't say anything, and after a moment, she grew self-conscious.

"What?"

"You okay? You look -- " He stopped and bit his lip, evidently having second thoughts about what he'd been about to say.

"What? I look what?" She looked down at herself in alarm.

"No, no! It's nothing -- see? That's it -- You look a little tired, but I didn't want to say that because I don't want you to think you look bad, because you don't. At all. You just look... a little tired. And..."

He trailed off with a sigh, and Morgan tried to hide her smile as she realized he was blushing.

"I am tired," she told him. "It's been a long, busy weekend. But I'm a little concerned it's _that_ obvious."

"It's not! I'm sorry," he said apologetically. "I should just keep my mouth shut."

She smiled, unconsciously laying a hand on Dean's arm. "It's sweet of you to be concerned," she told him. Her hand continued to rest on his arm, and they both looked at it, as if simultaneously registering the touch. She reluctantly removed it, bringing her hand up to brush her bangs away from her face.

"You probably think I'd be a horrible salesman, right?" he asked sheepishly. "But I guess it's hard to get flustered about block."

Morgan laughed, but she thought, _He's flustered? About me?_ "Oh, I don't know, you sounded pretty flustered the other night."

He rolled his eyes. "Just an idiotic customer. I have several of them."

"Every guest is your Number One Guest," she intoned, remembering something they'd repeatedly drummed into her head during orientation.

"You obviously haven't met some of my customers," Dean said with a snort. He peered up at the darkening sky. "I should let you go -- I just wanted to come over and see how your orientation went. You seemed so excited about it on Friday."

She flushed. "Thanks. That was nice of you."

His smile widened, and Morgan's face got warmer.

"Any time," he said, before turning and heading back towards Adam's -- his -- house.

Morgan watched him go with a smile on her face.


	3. Chapter 3

 

"What you mean, I gotta come back?" The client, Aaron Malkerson, leaned threateningly over the desk. Laura backed up until she hit the wall behind her, but Morgan stood her ground.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malkerson, but there was a bit of a scheduling mix-up. We're so sorry for the inconvenience, but Mr. Levitt is downtown all day, deposing clients and witnesses. We're going to have to reschedule your appointment."

Morgan was trying desperately to hide her exasperation. Laura had made the appointment for Malkerson last Thursday, when Morgan had been at her interview, and the temp had been looking at the wrong page. She'd told him this Monday, but she'd written it on the schedule for next Monday. _If she'd looked at the right week,_ Morgan thought, _she'd have seen that Carl's downtown all week!_

"We can reschedule for next week at this time," Laura said tentatively.

"What? Look, bitch, you the one who fucked this up?" Malkerson snarled, shaking the papers at Laura. "This thing's gotta be done by Wednesday, and you know how many buses I gotta take to get up here to do this? You think I can just get in the Escalade and cruise on up here, or what?"

Laura's eyes widened, and she looked as if she were trying not to cry. Morgan actually began to feel a little bit sorry for her.

"Mr. Malkerson, I know there's been a mistake, and again, I do apologize for that, but I really would appreciate it if you wouldn't talk to either of us like that, okay? Let me look at your paperwork, and we'll figure out a way to work this out."

He thrust the papers at her, and she took them and studied them. The deadline was clearly marked as this Wednesday, and she frowned. It wasn't like Carl to cut things so close. She felt a pang of guilt as she realized that part of it was the confusion of her departure.

She had no time to keep his schedule committed to memory; she was too busy trying to teach Laura everything she knew. Laura still had no idea of what his schedule was like -- nor, it seemed, did she have the inclination to try and learn -- and Carl was only good for remembering about twenty four hours worth of appointments.

"Let me call Mr. Levitt and see what can be done." Morgan glanced at her watch and stifled her sigh of relief as she realized she might be able to catch him between depositions. She glanced at Laura as she picked up the phone; the temp was shaking, her eyes focused on the ground at her feet. "Laura, why don't you go take your break, all right?"

Laura nodded and rushed out of the office as the phone began ringing in Morgan's ear.

"Levitt."

"Carl, it's Morgan. We have a little bit of a problem."

He groaned. "What'd she do now?"

"Mr. Malkerson is here. His appointment was accidentally scheduled for today instead of next Monday, and the paperwork he needs filed is due this Wednesday, so rescheduling for next week is out of the question." She carefully avoided mention of who was to blame for the mistake -- not that there was a need to say it. Carl knew damn well whose fault it was.

"What? Crap!" There was a pause, and then he came back, his voice annoyed. "Look, ask Aaron to wait, I can be up there in twenty minutes; the arbiter postponed my next deposition until this afternoon anyway. Dammit, there goes my lunch break."

"Okay, I'll let him know. See you in a little bit." Morgan hung up and turned to Malkerson, who was looming menacingly over the desk again. With one glare from her, he backed off. Slightly. "Mr. Levitt will be here in twenty minutes to meet with you," she told him. "He's very sorry about the mix-up."

Malkerson scowled and dropped into one of the visitor's chairs. "Whatever."

The silence in the office stretched out until Morgan's jaw and back were tight from the tension. Laura had still not returned to the office by the time Carl arrived, and Morgan was beginning to lose any brief sympathy she'd had for the girl.

Carl came bustling in. "Mr. Malkerson, I'm so sorry for the mix-up and the delay. Why don't you go have a seat in the conference room, and I'll be right with you, okay?" Without waiting for a reply, he turned to Morgan. "Where's Laura?"

"She's on her break," Morgan said tightly. "I sent her on it right before I called you."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "And she's still gone?" He sighed. "Why don't you go see if you can go find her -- the office should be okay for a few minutes with no one up front."

He stalked to the conference room after his client, and Morgan reluctantly began searching for the wayward temp. She checked the building's break area, the restroom, and the roof before finally finding Laura out behind the building's back entrance, frantically smoking a cigarette. There were butts littering the ground around her. Morgan glanced with irritation at the ash bin not three feet away.

"You could at least throw them away instead of littering all over the place," she said, and Laura jumped.

"Is he gone?" she asked Morgan, and Morgan shook her head.

"He's in the conference room with Carl. His paperwork won't take long, though. It's okay, you know," she said, trying to console Laura. "Mistakes happen sometimes."

Now that she wasn't threatened by his presence, Laura's terror had begun to transform into rage. "He called me a bitch!" she spat, throwing down yet another cigarette butt. Morgan stepped on it to extinguish it as Laura added, "I don't have to take that!"

 _Well, if the label fits..._ Morgan sighed. "Look, this job isn't easy. Carl doesn't always take on the most civilized clients. You'll be called names, and leered at, maybe even groped -- though I'm hoping Carl will put a stop to that -- so if you can't handle it, you'd better leave."

Laura defiantly peered up at her through heavily mascaraed eyelashes. "Well, if you can handle it, I'm sure I'll be able to."

 _Whatever, bitch,_ Morgan thought, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "Come on, we can't leave the office unattended."

Malkerson was already leaving by the time they both returned to the office. He came out of the conference room, glared at them both, and slouched out of the office without saying another word.

Carl came out and glanced from Morgan to Laura and back again before going into his office and shutting the door. After a moment, Morgan followed him and knocked softly on the polished wood.

"It's Morgan," she said quietly, and he mumbled for her to come in.

He was sitting in his desk chair, both elbows on the desk, his head in his hands. He briefly looked up at her entrance before hiding his face in his hands again.

"You okay?" she asked, re-closing the door behind her.

"No," he muttered. "Morgan, you can't -- this is crazy, I don't know what's going on with my clients, I have no idea where to find anything -- this place is going to fall apart without you. It already is! I've taken you for granted, and you've never said a word."

"You'll be fine, Carl -- and part of what happened this morning is my mistake. I didn't check Laura's work when I got back last Thursday -- if I had, none of this would have happened; everything would have been fine."

"And who's going to check her work next week?" Carl countered, and his expression suddenly grew pleading, his tone wheedling. "Come on, Morgan, I don't suppose you could stay another -- "

"I can't, Carl," she broke in. "I've thought about that, believe me. But I've already accepted another position."

He stared at her in shock. She _had_ thought about staying another week, just to help him get the office in order, and if she hadn't had anything lined up, she might have done it. But she was scheduled to train this weekend, and if all went well, she was expecting to begin at the park next week, so staying on to help Carl was impossible.

"You're serious," he said finally. He looked as if he'd been punched in the gut.

"I am. I'm sorry."

After a moment, he nodded. "Okay," he said, weakly gesturing to his door. "Why don't you take your lunch, Morgan? Now's a good time, before I have to go back downtown."

"You sure?"

When he nodded again, she turned and headed back towards the door.

"We'll be fine without you," he said with determination, and she stopped short but didn't turn around. He was trying to convince himself, she knew, and he wasn't just talking about while she took her lunch.

After a moment, Morgan sighed and said, "I hope so, Carl," and walked out.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

When she got back from lunch, Laura was nowhere to be seen -- again -- and Carl was sitting at her desk, scribbling notes on a legal pad. He looked up at her entrance.

"Hi," he said, "Have a good lunch?"

"It was okay -- where's Laura?"

He looked sheepish, and alarms began to go off in her head. "She's gone," he said.

"Gone?" she repeated, and he nodded. "What do you mean gone?"

"I sent her back to the agency."

"What? Carl -- "

"Come on, Morgan, you and I both know she didn't have the knowledge or the attitude for this job. It was only a matter of time." He was looking down at his notes, avoiding her gaze.

"So why didn't you send her back last Tuesday? Or Wednesday? Carl, I just spent a _week_ training her!" She dropped into the visitor's chair on this side of the desk and ducked her head, forcing him to look her in the eye.

"I didn't think you were actually going to leave!" His expression somehow managed to be both bold and ashamed.

"I _told_ you I was -- I can't believe -- didn't you believe me?"

"I didn't want to, Morgan, but this morning you gave me no choice." He slammed his pen down onto her desk. "Look, it's done, okay? We both know she would have quit in a couple weeks anyway -- this gives you a few days to train someone new. The agency will be sending someone either this afternoon or tomorrow."

"Carl, I can't train someone in four days."

"You were doing good with Laura," he argued, and Morgan snorted in disbelief. "Well, as well as can be expected, since she didn't want to listen to you."

"I will teach her -- whoever she is -- as much as I can in four days. But don't expect me to come in early and leave late just because you were too stubborn to fix this last week."

Carl set his jaw, his dark eyes blazing. "I am still your employer," he said quietly.

She raised her own chin, returning his glare. "You're right. You are. And if you'd like to let me go today, because of my insubordination, I'd certainly understand."

It was a threat, and they both knew it. She already had another job lined up, and if she left right now, it would cause a serious amount of damage, none of which would affect her. He'd been acting like a child about her departure, and things had now come to a head.

The standoff continued for a minute before Carl finally backed down. "Okay. It'll be okay -- I asked them to send me someone with a little more experience this time, so four days should be plenty of time to teach whoever it is the basics. Now, I have to get back downtown, so I will see you tomorrow morning. If the agency sends someone this afternoon, give me a call on my cell phone and let me know whether or not you'll think they'll work."

He stalked out, leaving her no chance to reply.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

By Wednesday evening, Morgan was exhausted. Monday afternoon, the agency had sent over a very nice, extremely intelligent, stern looking, older woman named Audrey, who'd been a secretary in her youth. Now that her youngest child was in college, she was going back to work to give herself something to do. Morgan would have been afraid for her among the lowlifes and thugs Carl typically represented, but something about her told Morgan that Audrey could take care of herself.

"I've studied martial arts," Audrey had mentioned in the midst of one conversation, and Morgan had been relieved, but not surprised.

Despite her words to the contrary, Morgan _had_ come in early and stayed late to help Audrey, and now she could barely make it home, yawning every thirty seconds or so. She knew she'd be wrecked by Friday, and the idea of getting up at three in the morning on Saturday for training made her want to weep.

She was staring blankly into the refrigerator, trying to decide what to make for dinner, when there was a knock on her front door. Her brow knitted in fatigued confusion as she continued staring at the shelves of food. When the knock came again, she finally shook herself out of her fugue and went to the door.

Adam was on the step, and she smiled tiredly. "Hey, Adam, what's up?"

"Saw you come home and I was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner. Dean cooked some pasta -- way too much -- and we were wondering if you'd like to help us eat it."

"He cooks too?" she said with a smile.

Adam's smile faded, and he stepped inside without asking, pushing her aside a little and closing the door.

"Look, that's another reason I wanted to talk to you. I noticed him over here this weekend, and he spends a lot of time staring in this direction."

"He does?" Morgan couldn't help it -- her smile widened.

Adam scowled at her. "I know I don't have to warn you about him -- you're a smart girl, and I'm sure you're just flirting for the fun of it. But back in school, Dean had a reputation as a hell of a player, and I don't want anybody to get hurt."

She raised an eyebrow. "School? That was a while ago, Adam. I'm sure we've all changed a lot since then."

He glanced around cagily. "Hmm. I don't know about him. People don't change _that_ much." When she stared at him for elaboration, he shrugged. "I have my reasons for my doubts, okay? I just don't want anyone to get hurt. He turns on that charm, and people get flattened by it."

Morgan stared at him, perplexed. Dean hadn't been anything but sweet to her -- not to mention a little shy, which only deepened her confusion. She wouldn't have been surprised to find out that a guy as good looking as Dean was a bit of a rogue, but she'd seen nothing in his actions or his demeanor to support it. In fact, he seemed to spend a lot of time at home, by himself. And if he was that much of a womanizer, how could Adam disapprove and still be friends with him?

It was too much to process in her worn out state. There was one thing she could ask about, though. "If you came over to warn me about Dean, why invite me over to dinner with him first?"

"Can't _I_ invite you to dinner? It's my house! I do consider you a friend, too, you know, and we rarely get to talk anymore."

She shook her head to clear it. "Of course. I'd love to, Adam, but I'm not sure I'd be good company tonight."

He eyed her critically. "You do look exhausted."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks."

The memory of Dean bumblingly telling her she looked a little tired on Sunday night came back to her, and she smiled, but it faded into a frown as she thought about what Adam had just told her. She definitely didn't want to see Dean now, if she looked as bad as Adam said she did. But she was so tired, and cooking _anything_ was not a pleasant prospect.

"Come on, come have dinner with us -- you probably shouldn't be in the kitchen right now anyway," he said with a laugh, knowing of her lack of cooking skills. "It might be dangerous."

"Shut up," she said, following him out the door and across the lawn.

Dean briefly stuck his head out of the kitchen and nodded politely to Morgan as they entered.

She stared mindlessly at Adam's TV while dinner was finishing cooking, and Adam wisely left her alone to her thoughts while he set the table.

Dinner started quietly enough as they sat around the table. When she asked Dean how his day had gone, his face darkened as he growled something about spineless customers and idiotic truck drivers with an attitude who couldn't find their ass with both hands, a map, and turn by turn directions.

Morgan and Adam glanced uneasily at each other and went back to their food.

"I'm sorry," Dean said with a sigh. "I just had a tough day. I'm still learning how to leave the stress at the office. It would probably help if they didn't call me on my cell phone after office hours, but what can you do? I hope your day was better than mine."

She smiled. "It was okay. Just very tiring. I'm training someone to take my place, and even though this one is a lot more capable than the last person they sent, it's a lot to do in a few days."

"How's Carl taking it?" Adam asked, tearing off a hunk of garlic bread.

She laughed softly as she reached for her wineglass. "Better than he was before, but still not well. This is very good, by the way," she told Dean, gesturing to her plate.

"Thank you. You told me all about your new job," Dean said, "But I don't think I know what you do now. I think Adam mentioned office work."

"I work for an attorney," she told him, and she smiled as he made a face. "Carl's one of the good guys -- he needs lessons on how to choose the right clients, but he's all right."

"He needs to tell his slimeball clients to keep their hands off," Adam added darkly, and Morgan glanced at him. She hadn't mentioned Valish to him, so he must have been talking about the other times it had happened, when she _had_ mentioned it. In private. Not at the dinner table, in front of his really cute friend.

Dean looked confused. "What do you mean?"

Morgan tried not to be annoyed at Adam for bringing it up. "Some of Carl's clients have roaming hands, that's all."

Now he looked alarmed. "They've touched you? Does your boss know?"

"He is not unaware of the situation," Morgan said wryly.

"And he doesn't say anything?"

She shrugged. "That's one of the reasons I'm leaving. But I think Audrey -- the new secretary replacing me -- will probably browbeat him into saying something if anything happens. _If_ anything happens -- she's in her early sixties, and she looks like a schoolmarm. Plus, she knows tae kwon do -- she can take care of herself."

Morgan glanced at Dean's face -- his expression was stormy, his eyes dark, and she was surprised by his anger. Nothing Adam had said earlier made any sense to her, but she couldn't ignore it -- why would he say something unless he truly was worried for her? She shook off her doubts.

"I'm okay," she said, placing a hand on his arm. The muscles were taut under her fingers. She smiled weakly. "It's just a pinch here and there. Idiotic customers, you know how it goes."

"Mine don't grope me," he grumbled, but at the realization that she could see his anger, he calmed down. There was an awkward pause, during which Morgan removed her hand from his arm, which only made things more awkward.

Finally, Adam said, "Well, my day sucked too. The girl I hired last week missed a day of work today because she had to do a group study or something for her AP exams -- Jan wanted me to tell her to come anyway, but I'm not going to screw up her chances to get into a good school, especially during our slow season. And of course, it turned out to be the busiest day we had in months!"

Morgan and Dean made sympathetic noises as they continued eating. Adam managed a small comic book and gaming store in the local mall, having started as a stockroom boy when he'd been a teenager. The owners, a couple named Harry and Jan Ryerson, loved him and pretty much gave him free reign over the shop.

"And then Devon -- you remember Devon?" he interrupted himself to ask, and Morgan nodded. Devon had been the boyfriend right before Paul. "Devon called me -- at _work_ , no less! Just to see how I was doing, he said. And by the way, do you have three hundred dollars I can borrow? What the fuck ever, Devon. But still no word from Paul." Adam sighed unhappily.

Morgan looked down at her plate, avoiding his gaze. Paul was somewhere in South America with a handsome ethnobotanist, and she was sure Adam was the last person on his mind.

"And then the bank called to tell me the house note was late again -- it was only two days late, but late is late, so of course there's gonna be a huge finance charge. They're freaking vultures, I tell you, Morgan, you're so lucky your house is paid off."

Morgan blinked, feeling like she'd been slapped. The awkward pause returned, more vicious than ever.

"I am _so_ sorry, Morgan," Adam said in a hushed tone, after a moment. "That was completely and totally insensitive of me."

She looked up to see him staring apologetically at her. Dean's fork hovered over his plate as he glanced from Morgan to Adam. He seemed aware that something was going on, but it was clear he had no idea what it was.

"It's okay, Adam, I know you didn't mean it like that," she said smoothly, trying to pretend that his words hadn't affected her, and hoping they could just move on.

"It just slipped out! You know I would never -- "

"Adam! It's okay. I know," Morgan said stiffly, but one look at Dean's confused face and she knew swiftly moving on wasn't an option.

She took a deep, shaky breath and turned to Dean, who'd lowered his fork and was staring at her in concern. "My house was paid off after the deaths of my parents and my older brother, about three years ago."

His dark eyes flooded with sadness and sympathy. "I'm so sorry. Adam mentioned there had been... a car accident, I think."

Morgan smiled mirthlessly, glancing at Adam, who still looked crestfallen. "I suppose you could put it that way. My parents and brother were out to dinner, and a drunk driver came up over the curb and into the front of the restaurant. My parents were killed instantly. My brother lived -- if you could call it that -- for three days."

Staring down into her plate again, she fought back the tears that still came with the memories. "I didn't go with them because I had class that night. It was my brother's birthday. We all had... a disagreement about it."

When she was sure the tears would remain at bay, she glanced up. "I don't much care for restaurants anymore," she said after a moment, her voice shaky.

Adam was the one staring into his plate now, and Dean was staring at her, his dark eyes wide and haunted, his mouth slightly open.

"I'm so sorry, Morgan," he whispered again. His hand, resting on the table, twitched slightly, as if he longed to reach out and console her somehow but didn't know if it would be welcome.

Aching for a comforting touch, she shrugged and cleared her throat. "Thank you. Well, now that I've ruined dinner, I should probably get going."

They both made sounds of protest, and she shook her head. "No, it's okay. I'm pretty tired, I should go anyway."

"Let us walk you home, at least," Dean argued, and Adam nodded his head.

"I think I'll be safe on the long walk home," she said, touched and more than a little amused.

"You never know, there could be dangerous fiends abroad tonight," Dean said seriously, and she couldn't help but smile. He looked insanely proud of himself for making her smile, and again she thought of Adam's words and was confused.

"I think I'm looking at them," she said, and they both looked wounded. "Come on, then."

The grief and the memories were still churning in her, but she was aware enough of her surroundings to realize she was walking between two very handsome men, and that there were plenty of people who'd love to be in her shoes at the moment.

At the door, she turned and thanked them both. Dean reached out and gently touched her hand with his.

"Any time," he said softly.

The small gesture touched her more than anything had in a long time, and she did her best to ignore Adam's frown as she smiled at them both. Bidding them good night, she turned and went inside.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Thursday passed uneventfully, if busily, and her last day arrived. To thank her for all her hard work during the week, Audrey proposed taking Morgan out to lunch. Morgan refused, but Audrey, thinking she was merely being polite by refusing, continued to press her.

Morgan's nerves were already shot -- though she was glad to be leaving, she knew she would miss her colleagues. Audrey's unrelenting insistence and the idea of having to eat in an unfamiliar restaurant sent her anxiety into overdrive.

"How many times do I have to say no?" she snapped, and then, unable to bear the hurt look on Audrey's face, she stormed out of the office.

Morgan stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. She was exhausted, and under the unflattering fluorescent lights, she looked awful. Her dark brown hair, normally shiny even when it was up in a bun as it was now, looked drab, and her eyes looked dull. Her skin was sallow. She thought of Dean, and how handsome he always looked, even when he was tired, or angry -- especially angry, there was an intensity about him that drew her inexorably to him -- and of the little half-smile he always seemed to have on his face whenever he talked to her.

She wondered why, wondered about him, about his sincerity, about the things Adam had said about him, and Adam's evasiveness. She didn't really know him, she'd only talked to him a few times, and yet, she couldn't help the strange flutterings she felt whenever she thought of him.

"Oh, boy," she muttered. "You've got too much on your plate right now to be falling for anyone, especially a guy who might only be trying to get into your pants!"

She tried to remind herself of that fact, but it only made the flutterings grow. She sighed, brushed her bangs off her forehead, and returned to the office.

Audrey was staring at the surface of the reception desk when Morgan came back in, and Morgan sighed.

"Look, Audrey, I'm sorry," she began, but the older woman cut her off.

"No, no, honey, it's okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push," she said, and there was sympathy in her eyes that hadn't been there before. Morgan glanced at Carl, who was watching her nervously, and she wondered how much he'd told Audrey.

"We're compromising," he said lightly. "I'll order in Chinese."

Morgan smiled. "That sounds great," she told him sincerely. It did sound great. A million times greater than trying to force down food in a restaurant setting.

The door banged open, and Holly came in. "Oh, good, you didn't go anywhere for lunch!" she exclaimed. She lowered her voice unconsciously, though who she was trying to keep from hearing, Morgan didn't know, since Carl was standing right there. "I skipped my last two classes to come spend the afternoon with you."

Audrey gasped and Carl said, "Holly!"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. It's PE and Computer Skills. The first I don't care about, and the second I can make up in fifteen minutes!"

Lunch was pleasant, and Morgan spent most of the afternoon watching over Audrey as she answered phones and made appointments and dealt with clients, but she was a quick learner, and there were no problems. Holly filed, but the three women spent most of the time just talking as Morgan cleared out the last of her personal belongings.

Sadness was creeping in, but she was used to keeping that at bay, and she tried to keep things light.

When five o'clock came, Holly gave her a tight hug, and when she pulled away, Morgan could see tears in her eyes. "You take care of yourself, okay, Mor?"

"You too, Holly. And you have my cell number, so you call me if you ever need anything, okay?"

When the girl nodded, Morgan turned to Audrey. "That goes for you too. If you ever need to know where anything is or anything like that -- Carl isn't likely to be able to help you -- just give me a call, okay?"

"We'll be fine, dear."

"Morgan."

She turned to see Carl standing at the door of his office. When she reached for his hand, he pulled her into a hug. She hugged him back, blinking quickly to keep her tears away.

"Thank you for everything. I know things have been rough lately, and I acted like a child, but I have _always_ appreciated everything you've done for me. You take care of yourself, and I wish you the best of luck."

"You too, Carl."

"I hope you'll never need it, but you call me if you ever need my help."

She laughed. "I hope I never do either, but if I do, you'd be the first person I'd call."

Picking up the box of her personal belongings, she headed out the office door for the last time.

Morgan managed to hold herself together until she was about halfway home. When things got too blurry to see, she pulled over and had herself a good cry.

The sadness was about more than leaving Carl and Holly, people she considered closer than mere coworkers. It felt as if she were cutting another tie to the happy, stable life she'd had before her world had fallen apart three years ago. The past suddenly seemed to be slipping away from her at an alarming rate.

"Oh, God," she moaned, struggling to compose herself. "I can't... c-can't breathe."

Breathing as best she could through her tears, she waited for the sobbing to subside. Once it had, and she was dealing only with the occasional hitching breath, she wiped her face with a tissue and finished the drive home.

There was something on her front door, and she was sure it hadn't been there in the morning. She rolled her eyes at the thought of yet another advertising circular. At least she hadn't been home to be disturbed by a solicitor.

Setting the box of stuff from the office on the kitchen table, she headed for the door. The object fell as she opened the door, and she barely managed to catch it. It was a pinkish yellow rosebud from the bush one of Adam's exes had planted in their backyard -- she recognized it immediately, since she'd always thought those roses were particularly beautiful. There was a note attached.

 _Just wanted to wish you good luck tomorrow,_

 _Adam and Dean_

Morgan smiled. She knew what Adam's handwriting looked like, and that wasn't it. She clutched the rose, breathing in the scent of it as she went to find her mother's favorite afghan. She planned to curl up in it, call Cassidy, and have a long talk about everything and nothing.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

"Let myself in. Sorry I'm late," Morgan said as she came into the living room of the Garcia home, receiving indignant shushes from Diego, Zach, and some guy she didn't recognize, who was cuddled up with Jeremy. She glanced at the TV and groaned when she saw Adam Sandler on the screen in a football uniform.

" _The Waterboy_ again?" she whined.

"It's a classic!" Diego argued.

"Sure it is."

"How'd it go?" Cass asked, glaring at Diego when he shushed her too. She smacked him on the back of the head as she got up and headed towards the kitchen. Morgan followed her, and Jeremy excused himself, disentangling himself from his date to make his way towards them.

They grabbed sodas from the fridge and went into the spare bedroom. Cassidy took the armchair while Jeremy hopped up on the bed. Morgan moved much more slowly, leaning tiredly on Jeremy's shoulder.

"You look wrecked," he told her.

She laughed. "Thanks! Everyone's telling me I look tired these days."

"Lotta change going on," Cass observed, and Morgan nodded, taking a sip of her soda.

"Looks good," she said, glancing up at Jeremy's hair, which was newly spiked and tipped light blonde.

He shrugged. "Thanks. Needed a change."

"New boy?" she laughed, knowing that was Jeremy's usual reason for a change of appearance. "He's a hottie."

"So how'd it go at work?" he asked, skillfully evading her question and observation.

"Day started off great," she said obligingly, acknowledging his evasive maneuver with a wry smile. "Woke up fifteen minutes late so I was rushing around and freaking out and then on my way to the park I realized I was out of gas. So I stop to fill up, and of course, I get the damn pump that clicks off after every gallon."

"I hate that!" Jeremy exclaimed.

"I know," Morgan agreed. "And why does it always happen when you're in a hurry? And of course the second one didn't work until I held it down. So I'm nervously dancing around, holding the stupid thing on so it will work, and I'm thinking, ‘Great. This is a perfect start to my day and my new career.'"

Cassidy patted her hand consolingly, and Morgan laughed. "Thanks. I finally get to the park and I'm still nervous as hell, and I'm showing my brand spanking new ID to the gate guards in the parking lot and I'm thinking they're gonna tell me I don't belong there and get the hell out, but they didn't. So I made it to Costuming -- "

"Costuming? You're in a costume?"

Jeremy's face was entirely too amused, and Morgan socked him lightly in the stomach. "No ‘uniforms' at Disneyland. Everyone wears costumes."

"Oh." He looked put out.

"Nice to see you'd like me humiliated."

"What are best friends for? So is your ‘costume' made up of bright primary colors?"

"I work Space Mountain. You know what they wear there."

"Oh, those are no fun."

"Hello, I wanna hear the rest of the story. Shut up, Jer."

"So I finally found Space Mountain from the back -- Disneyland looks very different from backstage, especially at four a.m., and I got there right at four thirty. The guy I was training with -- Micah -- he didn't get there until four forty five, and by then Matt was a little annoyed. Micah said he couldn't find us." She grinned in triumph. "So I was the good student from the start."

"Who's Matt?"

"Oh, he's my trainer."

"Is he cute?" Jeremy inevitably asked, and Morgan considered the question. "You have to think about it?" he asked her when the pause lengthened.

"Well, yeah. I wasn't ogling him -- he was teaching me things I need to know for my job. Which is weird, ‘cause he's younger than us. I mean, yeah, Carl isn't that much older than I am, but Matt's a couple years younger. But yes, to answer your question, he's cute."

"Cuter than Dean?" Cassidy asked, her eyes twinkling.

"No," Morgan replied instantly, her face flushing.

"That was quick!" Jeremy said. "I think I definitely need to see Dean now -- you've both been talking about him for days."

"To see Dean, you'll probably have to see Adam," Morgan warned, and Jeremy groaned. He disliked Adam intensely. Morgan had been worried when she'd first gotten to know Adam that he and Jeremy would hit it off, and she'd never get rid of Adam. But she hadn't given her friend enough credit, and he'd be horrified now if she told him she'd worried about that.

"Never mind, then," he said hastily.

"Well, hopefully if you and Dean hit it off, then Adam won't be around as much," Cassidy said, and Morgan stared at her.

"I think you're jumping the gun just a little. We've barely even talked." She didn't mention Adam's warning to her -- she still didn't know what to think about it -- and she didn't mention the previous night's rose. She didn't know what to think about that either. But it was resting in a bud vase on her nightstand, and just the thought of it brought a smile to her face.

"We'll see," Cassidy said, grinning as she saw Morgan's smile. "So was it hard today?"

"Wasn't really hard, just a lot to remember. And I'm a little afraid -- I don't want to be responsible for any accident -- especially one that hurts people, you know? That was one of the reasons I was iffy about doing attractions to begin with. What if I screw up and someone gets hurt because I didn't know what I was doing?"

Jeremy threw his arm around her and squeezed her. "You're smart. You'll be okay, and I give you a week before you're the best at what you do there."

"Absolutely," Cassidy agreed. "I don't think you'll have any problems. But if you're unsure of something, definitely ask!"

"Thanks, guys. And I will."

"What are you guys doing in here?" Diego said, poking his head into the room. "You aren't going to watch the movie?"

"Not like we haven't seen that one half a dozen times," Cass told him.

"It's over now, we're picking another one -- Patrick's wondering where you went," he told Jeremy.

"We were hearing about Morgan's day."

"Was it a good one?" Diego asked Morgan.

She shrugged. "I think so. I still have a job."

"We'll let you pick the next movie, in honor of your new job," Diego said with a laugh.

She grinned. "I'll have to take a rain check on that. I just wanted to stop by and say hi to everybody; I have to get home, another early morning tomorrow." She turned to Jeremy. "Who's this Patrick anyway? Do I know him?"

Jeremy shook his head. "Met him at a party a couple weeks ago. Friend of a friend of a friend of a friend, you know? We're not really serious, so I probably shouldn't leave him at the mercy of my friends. God knows what you'd tell him."

Cassidy cackled evilly and hurried out of the room, and Jeremy yelled, "Cass! Wait! No!"

He sighed and hurried after her. Morgan looked at Diego, shaking her head as she followed the pair of them.

"They're nuts," she told him.

"They're _your_ friends."

" _You_ married one of them!" she shot back, and he laughed.

Cassidy, Jeremy, Patrick, Zach, and his fiancée Mandy were having a lively argument over which movie to watch next when Morgan and Diego walked back into the living room.

She shouted her goodbyes over the din, and they all stopped the spirited debate to say bye to her.

"Call me!" Cassidy told her, and Jeremy said, "Say hi to Dean for me."

"He'll appreciate it," Diego said with a smirk.

Morgan rolled her eyes. "Good night, everyone."

She could hear the argument heating up again as the door shut behind her, and she laughed as she made her way to her car.


	4. Chapter 4

 

"See ya tomorrow," Morgan said as she grabbed her backpack and headed out of the break room.

Micah waved half-heartedly, but Justin shook his head as he popped some chips into his mouth. "Off tomorrow. Wednesday," he said, his voice muffled, and Evie smacked him for talking with his mouth full.

"Hey, no smacking the lead!" he protested, and Evie rolled her eyes. Justin was about as laid back a lead as one could find, but his attitude had put Morgan at ease a lot more quickly than a stern shift supervisor would have.

Morgan laughed at their antics, and then she remembered, "Oh, I'm on parade tomorrow anyway, so yeah, it would be Wednesday." The others made sympathetic noises, and she said, "Hey, don't scare me, I haven't done it yet!"

"Parade's a piece of cake. You'll be fine," Justin told her, and she smiled at him and opened the door, nearly running headlong into Matt, her trainer.

"Hey," he said with a smile. "How was the first day? I meant to get here earlier and see how you and Micah were doing, but my class ran long."

"That's okay, thanks anyway for the thought!" She grinned. "Pretty good, it wasn't too busy -- "

"It's a Monday, and it's rainy," he said. "That slows us way down."

"Yep. Justin was really good about answering all my questions, so it went really well. I hope," she added after a moment, glancing over at Justin.

Justin nodded. "Quick learner, that one. Both of them are, though Micah's had a tough day."

Micah kept his head down and concentrated on his food. Not only had he gotten flustered and needed bailing out a couple times -- Morgan had, too -- but he'd gotten into a minor confrontation with a guest over the park's smoking policy. And his shift was only half-over.

Matt patted Micah on the shoulder as Morgan left, pasting a smile on her face for the short walk between the break room and the offstage area.

She stopped by the grocery store on the way home; with the training and the job change and everything, she hadn't had a chance to shop lately, and her cupboards and fridge shelves were looking pretty bare.

Turning down an aisle, she stopped short. She recognized Dean from the back, but barely -- he was wearing a dark blue polo shirt and crisp jeans, obviously on his way home from work. Morgan had only ever seen him when he'd been working in the yard or on his bike, or relaxing around the house. She admired the view for a moment; he really was a good looking guy, from any angle.

"Dean," she said, and he whipped around, nearly dropping the box he was holding.

"Morgan!" He grinned at her and tossed the box into the half full cart he was pushing.

She eyed the cart; it was full of fresh fruits and vegetables and whole wheat bread and none of the Lucky Charms or frozen pizza she knew Adam favored. "Guess you're doing the shopping these days. The cooking too, I bet."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, a little self-consciously. "Yeah, well, if I let him do it, he'd buy nothing but Top Ramen and frozen junk food."

Morgan glanced down into her own small basket. Top Ramen figured heavily on the menu. As did frozen junk food. When she glanced back up, Dean was looking into her basket as well. He met her eyes, and he was blushing. She laughed at his sheepish expression.

"It's okay. I live alone, and I'm not a great cook; I eat what and when I can. The kitchen is a dangerous place!"

His grin turned roguish. "Well, I seem to have tamed it. Most of the time. You should come over for dinner more often."

"Well, thank you for the offer -- "

His gaze caught hers once more, his expression suddenly earnest. "I'm serious. I'd like to see more of you." His eyes widened when he realized what he'd said. "I mean, see you more often. I'd like to see you more often."

She knew she was smiling like an idiot, but she couldn't stop herself. "I'd like that too."

"Tonight?" His smile was tempting, his deep brown eyes twinkling, and Adam's warning floated back into her mind. _He turns on that charm, and people get flattened by it_.

Morgan frowned, her good mood deflating. "I really can't tonight, I'm sorry. But thank you for asking! Soon, though. I should get going, before my frozen junk food melts."

Dean's smile faded a little, and he nodded. "Oh. Okay. Well, it was nice talking to you again. I'm sure I'll see you around at home."

She nodded in reply and hurried past him towards the checkout.

Later that night, as she stared into her soup, Morgan thought about the encounter. No matter how much she thought about Dean, she couldn't see him as the charming scoundrel Adam had made him out to be. Adam had a penchant for melodrama, but he'd never lied to her, as far as she knew. Not that they were close confidantes.

She dropped her spoon into her bowl with a disgusted sigh.

"If he's just trying to get into my pants, he's taking an awfully long time to do it."

She wondered if she should call Cassidy and talk to her about it. But Dean was the first guy Morgan had been truly interested in since Rob, and she was afraid to pop the fragile bubble of happiness she could see on her friends' faces.

They'd stood by her while the rest of her life had collapsed and shattered around her, and they'd never pushed her. Some of her acquaintances and extended family members had begun to ask when she was going back to school, when she was going to start going out, when she was going to start dating again, but her friends never had. They were content to let her heal at her own pace, and she would be forever grateful to them for that.

But their hopeful, happy expressions when she talked about her new job or about Dean cut her to the quick much more easily than the pointed questions everyone else asked. They wanted her to be happy again. She wanted to be happy again -- for herself, certainly, but also for them.

She didn't want them warning her away from Dean, which is what they would do if she told them what Adam had said, whether or not they had proof. She didn't want them to worry about her anymore, she didn't want to be the fragile, breakable, handle-with-care one anymore, and she didn't want to be warned away from him -- she liked him. A lot.

Morgan pushed her bowl away from her, her appetite gone. "Maybe I should just ask him," she mused, and then she cringed. "Yes, because, 'Hey, I hear you were a major dog in high school, and I was just wondering if you still are?' would go over _so_ well."

With a sigh, she headed for the kitchen to clean up. Thinking about it obviously wasn't getting her anywhere; she was only tying herself up in knots. She tried to put him out of her mind, but the most she could do was put him in the back of her mind. But she had something else to worry about. The next day was her first Guest Control shift; she was working the parade shift on Main Street.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

"There was this kid, he was so cute, Cass -- " Morgan popped another slice of tangerine into her mouth.

"This was yesterday, during the parade?"

"Yeah, it was a little before the parade started, so Main Street was packed -- oh, hang on, there's another call."

"'Kay."

Morgan clicked over to the other line. "Hello?"

"Morgan?" The voice was familiar, and the caller sounded unsure.

She frowned. "Yes. Who's calling, please?"

"It's Dean."

"Oh! Hi..."

Before she could wonder where he'd gotten her number, he said, "Adam has your number -- I hope it's okay that I called it."

"Oh, it's no problem! What's up?"

"Well, I'm making chicken stir-fry for dinner. I know it's hard to tear yourself away from the Ramen, but I was wondering if you'd like some."

She laughed, her mind racing frantically ahead. She'd already refused a dinner invitation once -- if she did it again, it would be rude. And despite how confused she was, she could not bring herself to be rude to Dean when he'd been nothing but sweet and politely interested in her. And if she refused him again, he might stop asking.

 _Besides, it's just dinner and Adam's there. It's safe, and at least he didn't ask you out to a restaurant!_

"Sure," she said finally, hoping the pause hadn't been too long. "That sounds great, thank you. Give me a few minutes, okay?"

"Great!" He sounded very pleased, and Morgan wasn't sure whether to be happy or worried about that. "It'll be ready in about fifteen minutes. See you in a few!"

"Yep." She clicked back over. "Cass? You still there?"

"Yep."

"That was Dean, and he just invited me over there for dinner." Her heart was doing the fluttery thing again.

"When'd you give him your number? Thought you were 'just barely talking to each other'?" Cassidy sounded amused.

"I didn't give it to him. Guess Adam did."

"Well, that's good. Always a good thing when the roommate approves. Makes things easier."

And there, that did it. The fluttery thing was gone, swiftly replaced by the squirming uncomfortably within her thing. _Thanks, Cass, knew I could count on you_. "Guess so."

"So dinner is good! Could lead to naked time."

"Cassidy! Please, it's just dinner at his house, and I'm sure Adam will be there."

"Hmm. Damn. Well, I want details! Unless it leads to naked time. Then I just want a brief progress report. Ah, hell, who am I kidding, I want details!"

Morgan laughed. "I'll call you tomorrow."

Ending the call, she glanced down at herself and then hurried to her bedroom. Jeans and a nice patterned top replaced the sweatsuit she'd been lounging in. She ran a brush through her hair and lip gloss over her lips, and then decided anything more would be too much.

She checked to make sure her front porch light was on before crossing through the yard and knocking on the side door.

"Come in!" Dean called.

She stepped into the kitchen to find Dean at the stove, stirring something. He was wearing a white t-shirt and black jeans, and his hair was glistening from a recent shower. The kitchen smelled heavenly, and she was struck by the thought that her kitchen hadn't smelled like that in years. Between the smell of the food and the vision of him, she almost went into sensory overload.

"God, that smells good," she told him as her stomach rumbled. She flushed with embarrassment, hoping he hadn't heard it.

He turned around briefly and gave her a smile. "Hi. It's almost done, give me just a minute." He gestured to the table with his chin, since both his hands were full. "Have a seat. Want a glass of wine?"

She shook her head as she sat down, and she noticed with mild alarm that there were only two places set. "No, thank you, I'm fine. Water's good, and I can get it."

"Sit," he told her, crossing quickly to the fridge and pouring her a glass of ice water. "I've got it."

"Thank you," she told him as he handed her the glass. Trying to sound casual, she added, "Where's Adam?"

"At work. He's got a closing shift tonight," he said, turning back to the stove. He paused, and then turned around again, facing her. "I'm sorry, I probably should have mentioned that. I didn't even think about it. If you're uncomfortable..."

He looked so sincere, and so concerned, and she shook her head, though a little part of her -- a part that she hated -- wondered if it was just a ploy to lull her into being relaxed. The only evidence she had of his intentions were his actions, and they were a lot more solid than the vague assertions Adam had made. Until Adam gave her more proof, she was going to trust her instincts and stop second guessing Dean.

"No, I'm not. It's fine. Thank you for asking me." She smiled. "This smells a lot yummier than what I had planned."

"You sure you're okay with it?"

"Yes. Of course."

Dean grinned, looking pleased -- and a little relieved. "Good, because it's ready."

He served them both, setting the plate in front of her before setting his own down and taking a seat. Morgan tasted it and almost moaned in delight, trying not to shovel it into her mouth. She hadn't realized how hungry she was, but with the gorgeous looking, magnificent smelling food in front of her, she suddenly remembered she'd skipped lunch. A lot of time had passed since her frozen dinner the night before.

Dean ate slowly, taking a sip of his wine now and then, and she slowed and then stopped as she realized he was watching her, a tiny smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

"I'm sorry," she said with a sheepish grin. "I don't normally inhale my food like this. But I can't cook, and since I don't like restaurants -- "

"No," he said, shaking his head to stop her. "Don't apologize. I'm glad you're enjoying it; I was hoping you would. Adam mentioned that you like Chinese food, so..."

Her heart was fluttery again. "Well, thank you. I definitely appreciate it. I rarely get such good food."

Dean smiled, taking another bite. She watched the fork slide between his full lips, and suddenly she was hungry for a lot more than stir fry. It had been so long since she'd felt a jolt like that about a real guy -- not one of the hot guys on her favorite shows, or a character in a book she was reading, or even a random passerby, but a guy she _knew_ \-- and it took her by surprise. She stared down into her plate, feeling her cheeks flame with a mixture of desire and embarrassment, and she prayed that he didn't notice.

There was a pause, just long enough to start being awkward, before he asked, "So, how's work going? Unless you don't want to talk about it."

She laughed. "No, it's going great, I love it. Oh, I wanted to say thank you for the rose. On Friday night, that was very nice of you. I was so nervous."

He looked down, not holding her gaze, but she didn't miss his almost bashful little smile. "You're welcome. I'm glad it's going well."

With a smile, Morgan remembered the kid she'd been telling Cassidy about when Dean had called. "Yesterday, I was working Guest Control for the parade, and there was this little boy -- "

"Guest Control?"

She grinned. "Disney's fancy way of saying crowd control. No crowds at the park, you know. Just pampered guests."

He laughed. "Interesting. Sorry, go on. Didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's okay. So there I am, making sure people are behind the line and aren't stopping in the throughways, and whatever, and I feel this tug on my shirt. So I look down, and there's this little boy -- four, maybe five. Big blue eyes, towheaded little boy, and he looks up at me, completely solemn, and he goes, 'I'm lost.'"

She paused, watching his eyes go wide. "That's all he said?" he asked her, and she laughed.

"Yeah, now you know how I felt. I'm going, oh jeez, now what do I do, because we got basic training in how to calm kids down and how to ask them questions about their parents and how to notify other cast members without making a big scene, but this kid was just totally cool. So I knelt down and I said, 'You are?' and he goes, 'Yep.' And that was all he said! No tears, no panic, nothing."

Dean laughed, putting his fork down and leaning forward as he listened to her story. "So then what happened?"

"I said, 'Well, are you here with your mommy? Your daddy?' And he said, 'Both.' So I asked him if he remembered what they were wearing, and he said his mommy was wearing a blue shirt and his daddy was wearing a green and white shirt, and his daddy was holding his baby brother Danny. So I stood up and started looking around to see if I could see anybody matching that description, and he just stood right by me, not fidgeting or moving or anything. He just stayed really still, waiting by me. He was the calmest kid I've ever seen."

"That's crazy."

"Yeah. I remember Jason -- my brother -- and I got lost at the fair once, and I was so scared. And I remember my mother screaming for us. But this kid was just... it was a little eerie, actually."

"My little sister got lost once in the mall, and she was screaming -- that's how we found her. So did you find his parents?"

"Well, I took him by the hand -- we're really not supposed to touch the kids, but I didn't want to lose him again, and the whole area was packed since the parade was about to start -- and I started heading for Lost Children, looking for another cast member to temporarily take my spot, and then this woman -- in a blue shirt, I might add -- comes rushing up and she goes, 'Bobby, oh my God, _there_ you are!' And she picks him up and hugs him, and he smiles, and she says, 'Thank you for watching him! He loves to wander away!'"

"She needs to keep a closer eye on him then," he said disapprovingly, and Morgan laughed.

"That's exactly what I was thinking. So she starts to walk away and right before I can't see them anymore, he looks right at me from over her shoulder, and he waves and says, 'Thank you.'" She grinned. "Wasn't bad for my first lost kid experience. I'm sure they won't all be that easy."

"Probably not."

She smiled as she remembered the little boy, lost in thought for a moment. "He _was_ a cute kid," she said. "Seen lots of cute kids in the past few days."

Dean was watching her, his dark eyes unreadable. "Sounds like you like kids. Guess you have to if you work somewhere like Disneyland."

Morgan nodded. "I love kids," she said with a shrug. "But my ex didn't want them, and I haven't really given it very much thought lately. I wasn't around them a lot until a couple of days ago."

She would have said more, but there was a strange, sad look in his eyes that she couldn't quite identify. It stopped her from asking his opinion on children, and she realized just how little she really did know about him.

"So how's work for you?" she asked, trying to change the subject. He threw her a mock-threatening look.

"Don't ask," he growled, and she laughed.

"That good, huh?"

The conversation drifted for a while as they skimmed over various subjects -- favorite bands and books and sports teams, and Morgan thought about how nice it was to have a chance to get to know Dean without Adam scowling at her from the sidelines.

She happened to glance at the clock and blinked, surprised at how late it had gotten. "Wow," she told him. "It's pretty late. I should get going."

He looked surprised at the time as well. "Oh. Okay, if you're sure. It was really great to talk to you -- sometimes it's hard to just talk with Adam around. He makes everything into so much drama."

Morgan laughed. "Yep, that's Adam. And yeah, I really should get going. But thank you very much for the wonderful dinner and the great conversation." She paused, and then added impulsively, "I'd love to do it again."

Dean smiled happily. "That sounds great." When she stood, he stood as well. "Here, I'll walk you to your door."

"You really don't have to -- "

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. "I want to."

The short walk was quiet; she was lost in thought, and either Dean was too, or he was letting her have her space. When she reached the door, she opened it, and turned around. Dean was standing very close but not touching her, his hands hidden away in his jacket pockets. He was watching her, his gaze intent on her face, and it made her shiver.

"Would you like to come in for coffee?" she asked suddenly, surprising herself, and him. "You made dinner, it's the least I can do."

"I'd love to. But..." He grinned wickedly. "Are you sure it's safe? You keep telling me you're a terror in the kitchen."

She scowled at him. "Coffee I can do. It's about all I can do, but I can do it. I can't kill you with it. Well, I probably could, but it'd be on purpose, not by accident."

Dean laughed. "Well, with an endorsement like that, how could I refuse?"

He followed her in, glancing around at the décor on the way to the kitchen. Lounging against the counter as she began preparing coffee, he told her, "Your house is very nice."

She glanced at him. "Thanks. I haven't done much to it except dust it every now and then. I should probably redecorate, but I can't bring myself to yet."

He nodded. "Give it time. And you don't have to change it if you like it like this."

Morgan smiled. "You sound like Cassidy." At his questioning glance, she added, "A good friend of mine. She's always telling me to give it time." Her smile became wistful as she thought of her friend. "I don't know what I would have done without her."

Dean came closer to her, but he still didn't touch her, offering as much support as he could without crowding her. She smiled gratefully at him as she filled the coffeemaker with water.

He looked around at all the lights she'd left on earlier when she'd gone over for dinner -- all three porch lights were on as well, front, side, and back doors. "It's bright in here," he said after a moment.

Morgan shrugged. "I don't like it too dark. Feels too... empty."

He nodded, and she stepped away from him to grab a couple coffee mugs. When she turned back, he was peering intently out the kitchen window into the well lit backyard.

"What is it?" Morgan asked, and he jumped.

He turned to her, shaking his head. "It's nothing."

"You were pretty absorbed for it to be nothing."

Dean shrugged. "I was just looking at your wall back there."

She laughed. "What about it?"

"You've got some pretty crappy masonry work." Suddenly, his face flushed bright red. "Oh God, I really hope your dad didn't build that wall."

Morgan laughed again. "Don't worry. He had it built, and I'm sure he had it done as cheaply as he could. My dad was pretty tight-fisted. So what's wrong with it?"

He pointed out a few things, and she nodded along, but for the most part she was lost. She just enjoyed watching him -- it was very clear he knew his business; despite the fact that he never seemed very happy about his job. After a moment, he stopped, looking self-conscious, and she realized she was smiling.

"What?" he asked. "You laughing at me?"

"No! No, it's just... you never talk about your job."

"My job is very, very boring."

"So why do you do it?" she asked, curious. He didn't seem to hate his job, but he didn't seem to like it very much, either.

"What?"

"If you're bored by it, why do you do it?" She handed him the cup of coffee she'd poured him, and he looked thoughtful as he took a sip.

"Because I know how to do it," he said finally. "It's stable, and it's steady, and it's a good enough job that gives me a lifestyle I'm comfortable with. It's not what I want to do forever, but it's good enough for now. And when it stops being good enough, I guess I'll find something else to do."

Morgan nodded. "Makes sense. That's what I was doing, when I worked for Carl. I was just... coasting. It was stable, and I needed stable. I needed stable very badly. And now... stable got boring, I guess. So I found something new."

"And it seems like you love it."

"I do," she said with a smile. "It's new, of course, and God knows if I'll like it six months from now, but right now I really do love it. The kids -- they're just... I mean, some of them are horrible brats, of course, but for the most part, they're all just so... excited to be there. And working the parade, especially, I mean, I don't get to see too many of the little kids at Space Mountain... but watching their eyes light up... it's great."

Morgan stared down into her coffee cup as memory overtook her. "I remember... I remember being little, and I don't remember the first time they took me -- I was too young, they used to take us all the time -- but I remember being about four, and Mom was... I think Mom was away on a business trip, and my dad took Jason and me, and I remember, it was just so perfect and safe and nothing bad could happen there and -- "

She stopped, horrified, as she realized tears were sliding down her face. She turned abruptly from him. "I'm sorry," she choked out.

"Hey..." Dean sounded alarmed, and she felt awful. _Now he'll get scared of the crazy girl, and he'll leave,_ she thought in resignation. She jumped in surprise when she felt his hand on her shoulder, but she moved easily into his hug when he tugged her towards him.

She was wrapped in his warm arms, and she rested her head on his chest, and though she tried to stop them, the tears came even faster. It had been so long since anyone had held her while she cried, and she'd forgotten how nice it felt.

His big hands were rubbing her arms comfortingly, and his cheek rested against her hair. Morgan could feel the soft whisper of his breath across her skin as he made soothing nonsense noises. After a moment, her tears began to subside. He brushed a soft kiss against her hair, and she tried not to react, not knowing if she'd been meant to feel that.

As the sadness ebbed away -- for the moment, it was always for the moment -- Morgan began to realize how comfortable she was in his embrace. His chest was solid and firm, his body warm and hard, and she remembered the way his dark eyes intently watched her, remembered the sight of the fork slipping between his lips.

Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to snuggle closer to him, to find out if his lips were as soft as they looked, but she forced herself to stay motionless. Dean's arms tightened around her for just a moment -- long enough for her to feel a jolt from head to toe -- and then he released her. He kept his hands on her arms, stepping back just enough to be able to look into her eyes.

The concern in his gaze was nearly palpable, and it almost set her off again. She tried to smile. "Thank you," she whispered, wiping at her cheeks. "I'm sorry -- "

"Shh..." he said quietly. "Don't be. _I'm_ sorry if it was anything I said..."

Morgan shook her head. "No. No, it wasn't anything you said, or did. Sometimes it's just... there. I'm usually better at not breaking down in front of people -- "

"Maybe you should. Maybe it'll help."

"Or people will just think I'm nuts."

"No," he said firmly, and she smiled at him, a little less shakily. "You gonna be okay? Do you want me to -- I mean, I don't know if I can do anything, but if you need something..." He trailed off, looking adorably unsure of himself.

"Thank you. I'll be fine, and you've gone above and beyond the call of duty. Thank you very much for dinner, and for, well, not running in terror when I fell apart on you. I should let you get home, it's getting late."

"If you're sure..."

"I'm sure," she said, walking him towards the door. He turned, his eyes dark and intense as they studied her face.

"Good night," he said, apparently satisfied with what he saw.

"Good night," she whispered as he crossed the lawn.

Only when he was inside the house did she close the door. Turning to lean against it, she sighed. "Adam, you're wrong. You have to be wrong."

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Work was hectic over the next couple weeks as the busy time of year picked up and she settled into her job. She mostly worked Space Mountain, but she was given a couple of Guest Control shifts a week, either during the parade, or at Fantasmic!, the nightly light and water entertainment on the Rivers of America.

She'd always loved Fantasmic!, and going behind the scenes was a bit of a thrill the first time. After that, like everything else at Disneyland, it was slowly becoming routine. That didn't mean she loved the place any less, though.

"Although it does change some things," she told Jeremy with a laugh.

"Like what?" he asked, and she heard a yawn in his voice through the phone line.

"Don't do that!" she admonished, stifling her own yawn. Jeremy was pretty much the only person she'd been able to talk to lately. He was familiar with sliding, shifting schedules and inconsistent sleep patterns. All of her other friends -- and Dean, her mind whispered -- were on 9-5 schedules, so she barely got the chance to speak to them, let alone the chance to see them.

"Sorry, didn't mean to yawn in your ear. What changed?"

"Well, there's nothing like seeing Cinderella and Snow White sitting backstage and sharing a cigarette, bitching about their boyfriends."

Jeremy laughed. "Could be worse."

"How?"

"Could be Prince Charming and the Beast sharing a cig and bitching about their boyfriends."

"True, very true," she said, laughing.

"Hey, Mor, I'm home now, so I'm gonna take off. Gotta shower and hit the sack. You gonna be okay the rest of the way?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm almost home. You take care, and I'll talk to you soon."

He hung up and she drove on in silence. Her neighborhood was quiet, the houses dark, since it was after two in the morning. She pulled into her garage, noting as she did that the lights towards the rear of Adam and Dean's house were on -- that was where Dean had his room.

"He's up late," she mused.

They were still on when she went into the kitchen to get a glass of water a few minutes later, but they snapped off even as she watched.

Briefly, she entertained the notion that he'd been waiting for her to get home, but she dismissed it with a laugh.

"Good night," she whispered, touching the window before heading to bed.


	5. Chapter 5

 

She bustled into the tiny leads' room under the bridge outside Pirates of the Caribbean and set her backpack down in a corner. The male lead looked up at her entrance, and she tried to sneak a peek at his nametag, since he was a lead she didn't remember working with before.

His name was Scott -- that was the thing about working at the park; she could work with different people every day and never have seen them before, and yet, she'd still know their name within five seconds of meeting them. The nametags were handy that way.

"Hi," Scott said, taking a much more overt glance at her nametag. "Morgan... there you are," he said, checking the list on his clipboard. He let her know which section she was going to be working -- by the petrified tree -- and sent her off to help with set-up.

The park was crowded, but not insanely so, and set-up went smoothly.

"Morgan..."

She turned around to see Julie setting up next to her. "Hey, you," she said with a smile, taking a pole from the other woman. She and Julie were around the same age, a little bit older than most of the kids who worked Space Mountain with them, and they'd begun to strike up a friendship.

"You got stuck with GC too, hmm?" Julie said quietly, rolling her eyes.

Morgan shrugged. "I don't mind. I like Fantasmic!. The people taking pictures in your eyes kinda sucks, but other than that, it's okay."

"Ah, you got walkway control," Julie said with a nod.

It was the responsibility of the cast member doing walkway control to stand at the edge of the roped off seating or standing area, facing away from the water, in order to make sure people weren't stopping in the walkways. Guests with cameras would come up to the aisle and take flash pictures of the show, which left her blinded and with bright afterimages in her eyes for several minutes afterward.

"Yeah. But you get a good view of the fireworks, so it's all good."

Julie laughed. "You love those."

"Always have," Morgan said with a sheepish smile. She noticed April, one of the leads, glancing at them, and she muttered to Julie, "Less talking, more smiling, more set-up."

Julie laughed and took the rope from her. "All right, talk to you later. Have fun."

"You too."

She finished set-up and watched as the area began to fill with hundreds -- thousands -- of people. It still amazed her how quickly the crowd swelled, and she remembered how empty other areas of the park became from nine to eleven while both shows of Fantasmic! and the fireworks -- which came between shows -- took place.

"Sorry, ma'am, this is a walkway; I'm going to have to ask you to keep moving," Morgan said, smiling but firm.

"Oh, okay," the woman said, giving her a distracted smile. Morgan watched, trying to keep from rolling her eyes as the woman and her children stopped in the walkway in front of the _next_ aisle. The cast member there moved her along just as Morgan had, and the woman gave him the same distracted smile.

When the show began, her job got harder as guests tried to stop and watch the show. Though her back was to it, Morgan could tell what was going on by the soundtrack, and also by the audience's reactions. She was concentrating on keeping the traffic flowing, but she had to smile at the awed faces of the littlest kids.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

"Everything okay?" one of the leads asked, hurrying through during the brief break between the first show and the fireworks. Other cast members were responsible for moving set-up poles, breaking down some areas and setting up others, but Morgan just had to watch her walkway.

"Fine," she answered, but the lead was already gone. Though the cast members hurried around, the guests were mostly content to sit -- the Fantasmic! seating and standing areas were a pretty good spot to watch the fireworks.

The area went dark as the music started up, and Morgan couldn't help but smile. She'd always loved fireworks, and she still had a hard time remembering that she was supposed to be watching the guests, not the show.

The guests were usually well-behaved during the show, though, so it wasn't a problem unless a lead was watching her. It was only after the fireworks -- when thousands of people tried to exit the area quickly to make maximum use of their few hours left in the park -- that problems started.

Morgan watched in dismay as people began to press forward into those in front of them, despite the fact that the people in front weren't moving. The dispersal seemed to be taking longer than usual, and she longed for a radio so she could see what the problem was. Unfortunately, handheld radios were the domain of the leads only, so she simply had to wonder -- silently, unlike the guests, who were loudly beginning to express their impatience.

"Would you hurry _up_?" a blonde woman directly in front of Morgan snapped, yanking her young son by the arm. The boy, who'd been dawdling, began to cry. He stumbled and fell against the stroller his mother was pushing, just as she said, irritated, "Come on!"

The stroller bumped the mother of the family ahead of her, and she whipped around, furious, her red hair flying around her face.

"I am _so_ sick of you people using your damn strollers as weapons!" she snarled, and the blonde froze in the act of scolding her son. The redhead placed her hands on her hips and moved in closer. "In case you haven't noticed, no one's going _anywhere_ , and I'm moving as fast as I can, bitch!"

The blonde gasped, and Morgan thought, _Oh, shit._

Her husband, a huge guy with a shaved head and more muscles than should be allowed -- stepped forward. "What did you just call my wife?"

The redhead narrowed her eyes and thrust her chin forward. "You heard me."

"I wasn't even talking to you! I was talking to my son!"

"Okay, guys, come on, let's calm down -- " They completely ignored Morgan, and she had no idea what to do.

"You better watch your mouth, lady, before someone knocks it clean off," the big guy growled.

The redhead's husband got into it now. "Are you threatening my wife?"

The big guy looked down at the considerably smaller man. "And if I am, what do you think you're gonna do?" he asked, smirking.

The women were still screeching at each other, and now the children were crying too, but Morgan was focused on the men, who were glaring at each other, eyes flashing. They looked like male moose or something, Morgan thought briefly and had to bite her tongue to keep herself from laughing in hysteria and terror. Her heart was pounding, and she looked frantically around for a lead to flag down, but there wasn't one in sight.

"Okay, come on guys -- " Morgan held her hands up, peaceably, but none of them were paying her the slightest bit of attention.

The people around them had stopped moving, crowding in to see the action, and Morgan was growing desperate.

"I _think_ I'm gonna kick your ass," the smaller man said, and the big guy laughed contemptuously. The smaller man stiffened and drew back his arm, and Morgan acted completely without thought.

"Wait!" she cried, jumping between them, but it was far too late.

The blow knocked her to the ground. She heard the mass gasp of the onlookers and her own startled yelp, felt the skin scrape off her palms as she broke her fall on the hard macadam of the walkway. And then the pain hit.

White hot starbursts of agony bloomed in her head, starting in her left eye, and the night lit up with blue and yellow flashes of light. For one disorienting moment, Morgan thought people were taking flash pictures again. The punch knocked the breath out of her, and tears sprang to her eyes and began streaming down her cheeks.

Her vision was blurry, but she saw the redhead -- the one who'd started it all with her stupid misunderstanding -- smack her husband.

"You _hit_ her! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I didn't mean -- "

"Okay, people, back off, please. What's going on -- Oh my God."

Morgan was hauled to her feet by a burly security guard. She realized the crowd around them had grown to include half a dozen cast members and four uniformed security guards.

"You okay, Morgan? What the hell happened?" Julie hissed as she and another cast member walked Morgan towards the leads' room.

She just shook her head, still trying to regain her breath. Her head was trying to pound itself off her neck. She didn't remember any other physical pain that had ever hurt this much.

Once inside, she sat down shakily, and the other cast member -- Nichole, she remembered hazily -- brought her a paper cup of water. She drank a little bit of it and took a few breaths. "I thought they were going to kill each other," she said after a moment.

The door banged open, and all three women jumped. Scott, the lead who'd signed her in that night, came crashing in.

"What the hell happened?" he asked as soon as the door shut behind him.

Morgan was already shaken, and it only got worse when she looked into Scott's eyes. He wasn't concerned; he looked angry.

"They were arguing," she said quietly. "I didn't know what to do to get them to stop."

"So you jumped in between them?" His tone was incredulous -- and furious.

"I didn't mean to!" she said, hating how whiny her voice sounded.

"You _never_ jump in between them," he told her. "You let them beat the crap out of each other! Let security sort them out! You could have gotten stabbed or something!"

She tried not to grimace; the volume of his voice wasn't helping her rapidly escalating headache. She really _hadn't_ known what to do. She hadn't been given any training in how to deal with guest altercations. She'd been flying blind, with no supervision. And now she was being berated -- it was definitely adding insult to injury. If she weren't in so much pain, she'd be angry.

"Now we have a minor crisis, and we're gonna be shorthanded -- you two! What are you still doing in here?" he snapped, and Julie and Nichole stared at him. "You have positions to return to, ladies..."

They glared at him and then headed for the door, Julie giving Morgan one last sympathetic glance on the way out. Scott was still slamming around in cabinets, muttering the whole time.

"Jeez, Megan -- I have to fill out so much paperwork -- and you have to go to First Aid and then scheduling -- "

"Scheduling?"

"Well, they're gonna have to give you backstage shifts or something until that heals -- we can't have a cast member walking around with a black eye, obviously."

"Oh." With every word he said, she felt smaller and smaller, and the pain just seemed to keep on growing.

"Damn, Megan -- what a mess -- I don't even know where -- F Lead 1!" he bellowed into his radio.

"My name is _Morgan_. And I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you," she said stiffly, near tears.

"Yeah?" the radio blared, crackling with static, and Morgan raised a hand to her throbbing head. Scott glanced at her, and his angry demeanor softened. He turned down the radio.

"Look -- I'm sorry, it's just -- "

"What do you need, F Lead 2? We're a little busy here..."

"Hang on," Scott told Morgan. He raised the radio towards his mouth. "Where are the incident forms?"

As the radio boomed something incoherent to her and Scott began banging through other cupboards, Morgan finished her water and tried not to be sick. She wondered fuzzily if she had a concussion or something.

Scott shoved a clipboard under her nose. "Here, sign this."

She blinked slowly, struggling to focus on him. "What is it?"

He peered at her. "You okay?"

"I'm a little fuzzy."

He frowned. "You need to get to First Aid."

"Let me see that," she asked him. When he handed it to her, she slowly read through it. The fuzziness was thankfully starting to clear, but the pain was getting worse. She read through it, and it was a straightforward statement of what had happened. Guests were arguing, it escalated towards violence, she stepped between them and was accidentally struck.

"Am I going to get in trouble?"

He gave her a tiny, wry, smile. "No. No problems."

She tried to concentrate on his eyes, but she was having trouble doing so -- at least well enough to see if he was lying to her -- so she gave up and shrugged. "Fine," she sighed as she signed the incident report. "Now can I go to First Aid?"

He nodded, and added, "I'll have someone walk you." When she began to protest, he raised a hand to stop her. "It's policy," he told her, handing her her backpack, and she sighed. "Don't forget to stop by scheduling, okay? I'll give them a call and let them know what happened and to expect you. Wait here for a minute, and I'll get someone," he told her as he slipped out of the room.

There was a knock on the door a few minutes later, and Morgan opened it to see Nichole waiting for her. "First Aid," Morgan said wearily, and Nichole nodded.

They quietly walked through the park; Morgan kept her head down, and they stayed behind the scenes as much as they possibly could, so as not to alarm anyone. She could feel Nichole staring, but the girl said and asked nothing, and Morgan didn't volunteer anything.

When she got to First Aid, there were a few exclamations, and a doctor saw her quickly. She assumed he was a doctor, anyway, since he was wearing a lab coat -- but then again, so were the cast members at Honey, I Shrunk the Audience.

He filled out some paperwork -- there was always paperwork -- and did a quick check, for concussion, he told her. Despite her protests, and despite the fact that the park doctor was confident she didn’t have a concussion, she was driven to the local occupational medical clinic, where she was asked the same questions and gave the same answers.

After the doctors there were convinced she didn't have a concussion, she found herself back at First Aid in the park, filling out more paperwork. The park doctor recommended she see her personal doctor, and then he cut her loose. When she asked if she could drive, he reluctantly okayed her.

Scheduling had already been notified of the incident, and they had her new schedule ready. She'd already had the next day off, and her next four shifts were now Parade East -- the Main Street side, where she wouldn't have to cross the park out in the open to reach her reporting point.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

By the time she finally got in her car to go home, it was well after one thirty in the morning. Her adrenalin had long since completely worn off, and she felt like curling against the door and sleeping for hours. The ibuprofen she’d taken seemed to be doing nothing, and the ice pack she’d been given was melting all over the place, so she dumped out the water and tossed it on the passenger floorboard.

She kept her cell phone on and in her hand on the drive home, hoping that she wouldn't need it, but she figured it was better to be safe than sorry. She had no idea who she'd call -- Cassidy, probably, she was really the only person Morgan could think of.

She groaned -- and from more than just pain -- when she neared her house, realizing just who owned the truck she was driving behind.

"Oh, dammit. What the hell is he doing up? It's after two in the morning!"

Dean pulled into his driveway just as she pulled into hers, and from the way the silhouette of his head moved, she knew he’d seen her. She sighed.

When she got out of the car, he was in her driveway, lounging, hands in his pockets as usual.

"Hey, Morgan. Seems like I haven’t seen you in ages," he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice.

She kept her head down as she mumbled, "Dean, hi. You're out late."

"It's my little sister's birthday, so I went home for dinner. Long drive home, you know, and..." He trailed off. "Morgan? Are you okay?" He moved a little closer to get a better look at her, and she shifted slightly to avoid his gaze.

"I'm really tired -- it was nice to see you, I think I'm just going to go to bed."

"Hey..." He grabbed her arm -- lightly, to let her pull away if she wanted to. "Is everything okay?"

She really didn't want him to see her right now. One glance in the mirror in the bathroom at the medical clinic had been more than enough to let her know she was going to have a hell of a shiner. It was already swollen and turning an ugly yellow, and she was afraid it would swell up so much she wouldn't be able to see out of the eye soon. But it didn't look like he was going to go away any time soon.

"Not really," she told him as she finally looked up at him.

Dean's eyes widened and then they darkened and filled with such rage that it scared her. Unconsciously, she pulled her arm out of his grasp and took a small step away from him. Unaware of her unease, he took her shoulder and pulled her into the garage where he could get a better look at her.

His hand on her chin was firm but gentle as he angled her face up into the light. She closed her eyes as the brightness sent sharp shards of pain through the already intense ache.

"Who did this to you?" he asked, and his voice was soft and deadly.

Morgan opened her eyes to gaze into his. The rage was a banked fire, but he was staring at her with that almost tangible concern again, and suddenly, all she wanted to do was let him -- someone -- anyone, but especially him with his caring eyes and his gentle hands and his soothing voice -- take care of her for a while. She could feel the tears trying to start again, and she sighed.

"Morgan? Who did this?" he repeated.

Morgan shrugged. "Guest," she said miserably.

"A guest?"

"It was my fault."

He stared at her incredulously. "Your fault? What, you walked into his fist?"

She laughed and then groaned when the internal pounding increased as a result. "Pretty much, actually. There were -- " She stopped. "I’m sorry. I’m really tired. I think I need to go inside."

Dean shook his head a little, coming back to himself, and then he nodded. "Yeah, come on, we've gotta put something on that."

"I'll be fine, Dean, it's really late. You should go home."

"After we get that eye taken care of."

"I think it's past help," she said, but she conceded, following him into the house. She smiled at the way he walked right into her home, in front of her, as if he owned the place.

"Nah, I know what to do."

"You know how to treat a black eye?" she asked, smiling wanly at him. "Do I want to know how you know? Oh, if you're planning on putting a frozen steak on it, we might be out of luck. Will a boneless skinless chicken breast do?"

Dean laughed. "Meat's a bad idea. It can lead to infection. But there's something else we can do."

In the bright light of the kitchen, he looked her injury over more closely. "This looks serious, Morgan, you should see a doctor."

"I did. Well, I think he was a doctor. A Disney doctor, anyway."

His frown grew more intense. "You should see a real doctor. You might have a concussion -- they shouldn't have let you drive home -- you could have called me or Adam, you know."

"You just told me you were in Oceanside."

"Adam, then!" he said in exasperation.

 _Perish the thought_ , Morgan thought as she waved him off and dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. "I'm fine. He _was_ a real doctor, and even if he hadn’t been, they took me to some clinic to get checked out. They said there was no concussion and cleared me to drive. The doctor at First Aid recommended I see my own doctor, but he said that unless I started feeling worse, it probably wasn’t an emergency. I’m fine, Dean."

Gingerly touching her temple, she winced. "God, it hurts like hell though."

"I bet." Dean was rummaging around in her fridge, and she watched him curiously. She was too tired and too much in pain to take more than a passing glance at the rear end he was so invitingly wiggling before her. "Your first shiner?" he asked, his voice muffled.

She shrugged, not caring that he couldn't see her. "I guess... only one I ever remember -- and if it always hurts like this, I think I'd remember if I'd had one before. What are you looking for?"

"Aha!" He backed out of the fridge with a can of soda in his hand. "Y'know, for a girl who doesn't cook, you sure have a lot of stuff in your fridge."

"You're thirsty? I'm dying here, and you're digging for a refreshing beverage?"

He chuckled. "No. This is better than a frozen steak or a bag of frozen vegetables. And yes, they always hurt like that."

She watched him run the soda under cold water and carefully wipe it with a paper towel. "A can of soda? Says who? And have you had a lot of black eyes?"

"Yes, a can of soda, says Coach Tucker, and I've had a few. Played football, wrestled a little in school, had my fair share of bumps and bruises." He bit his lip as he neared her with the soda. "This might hurt a little."

Morgan glanced up at him. He took her hand -- his was cool from holding the soda -- and wrapped it around the can, guiding it to her eye. He pressed gently, and she did her best to stifle her startled gasp of pain. The pain gradually eased as the cool metal soothed her injured flesh. When he was sure she had it, he removed his hand and sat down in the other chair at the table, and she felt a pang of disappointment at the loss of his touch.

"You don't have to stay with me," she told him again.

"For a little while. Unless you want me to go?" he added, and when she shook her head, smiling tiredly, he said, "Good. Besides, I want to hear how this happened, Morgan."

"Mmm," she said, her tone non-committal. She really wasn't looking forward to telling him how stupid she'd been. Something he'd said had caught her attention, something neither he nor Adam had ever mentioned before. "You played football? And wrestled?"

He nodded. "A little. Wasn't very good at either. Made it to varsity, but I was never a star. I probably could have been better, but I wasn't very dedicated."

"You were on the football team and you were friends with Adam?"

When Dean nodded, she tilted her head, picturing it. "Huh," she said in surprise.

He studied her, perplexed. "Why's that so hard to believe?"

Morgan shrugged. "I don't know... I know Adam was a theater geek and into choir, and in my high school experience, those kids -- and I was one of them -- didn't usually hang out with the football players and cheerleaders."

He looked down at the tablecloth, rolling the edge of it back and forth between his fingers, and she was captivated by the way his hands moved. She found herself watching his long fingers shift and curl against each other, and she was struck by a vision of those fingers gliding along her skin and pressing against her body. It was so sharp and clear that it made her suck in a breath, and she felt her skin grow warm. He glanced up at her.

"You okay?"

She nodded. "Go on," she managed to get out.

Dean shrugged. "Adam and I sat next to each other in first period on the first day of freshman year. We'd both just moved to the area, and neither of us knew anyone. We became friends, and even later on, when we were more involved in our own social groups, we were still good friends. Adam never took crap from anybody, he was who he was, he never compromised, and I admired that, y'know? Especially later on, when I was trying to be cool and I was so concerned with what people thought of me. I never told him -- or anybody -- but I wished I could be more like that."

Morgan listened, intrigued. Dean rarely talked about his past -- he'd never mentioned the past few years at all, but even his earlier past was mostly a mystery. He glanced up at her, a tiny, wry smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

"I think that's part of his problem now, though. He's unhappy with his life and it's because he expects everyone to accept everything his way. He doesn't compromise on anything. Sometimes you have to."

Morgan thought of all the times she'd put aside what she wished for and gone along with Rob's wants and wishes, believing him when he'd told her that compromise was a big aspect of a successful relationship. "Sometimes you compromise so much that you lose yourself."

Dean studied her for a moment, his dark eyes boring into her as if trying to decipher her hidden thoughts. She felt trapped, unable to escape, but it wasn't a disagreeable situation to be in.

 _It's a pleasant kind of trapped_ , she thought incoherently.

"That's true," he said after a moment, and she was confused until he continued. "But it's not compromising if only one person is doing the giving while the other takes and takes and takes. That's a sacrifice, not a compromise. Now, you've successfully stalled for half an hour. Why don't you tell me what happened tonight? Do you want me to see if I can find another can of soda or is that one still okay?"

Shifting in her chair, Morgan rearranged the can so that she had a cooler section of it on her eye. "No, this is fine, thanks."

There was another pause, and then he prompted her again. "So, spill."

She sighed. "Nothing major happened. It wasn't really anything big at all. It was crowded, I was working Fantasmic!, nobody was moving after the show, the guests got cranky, a big guy threatened a little guy's wife after a misunderstanding, and the little guy threw a punch."

"At you?"

"I walked into his fist."

Dean glared at her, and she sighed again. "I knew he was going to do it, and I didn't know what to do. I panicked, and I jumped in between them."

"What? Why -- Morgan..."

The way he sighed her name, the half-annoyed, almost condescending look he gave her -- the little half-smile -- suddenly it all reminded her of the way Rob had always treated her, and she was instantly infuriated. Everyone -- the lead Scott, all the doctors, the woman at scheduling, and now Dean -- everyone was treating her like a child.

She slammed down the can of soda and jumped up from the table. Her chair made a loud scraping sound over the tile of the floor as it slid back, and Dean looked startled.

"Look," she said angrily. "It's not as if I was trained in this kind of stuff or anything. I thought they were really going to get into it, and I didn't want that to happen right in front of me, okay? I figured bloodshed would be a bad thing! I'm new at this, and I did the best I could! I made a mistake, and I got a black eye and a killer headache for my troubles. I think that's more than enough of a lesson, don't you?"

Turning away from him, she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, ignoring the sting as her scraped-up palms rubbed over the material of her shirt. She stared, unseeing, into the backyard, trying not to feel like a stupid little kid.

Dean came up behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body. Morgan closed her eyes as his hands hovered uncertainly over her for a moment and then gently settled, warm and comforting on her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his breath skating across her ear. She shivered. "It's just... you could have been killed, Morgan."

She wanted to turn and look at him, but that would have meant breaking contact with him, and she couldn't bring herself to do that. She settled for trying to glance up over one shoulder. She couldn't see him clearly, but she could tell that he was close. Very close.

"Killed? It was a punch in the eye, Dean. Painful -- damn painful -- but not deadly."

He was quiet, and she could practically _sense_ him frowning, as if his mood were something physically emanating from him. "And if it'd knocked you out? And you'd hit your head on the ground?"

She couldn't help herself -- she smiled. "You're worried."

There was another pause, this one a little longer, and she began to wonder if she'd jumped to conclusions.

"Yes," he admitted finally, "I am."

She did turn then. His hands stayed loosely on her shoulders, and she looked up at him, and he was so close that her breath caught in her throat. One of his hands slid into her hair, gently cupping the back of her head and drawing her even closer.

Morgan hazily realized that when he'd touched her the throbbing in her head had dulled, just a little. Then his lips found hers, and she smiled into his kiss.

His lips were soft and warm and insistent against hers, and she breathed in his scent -- cologne and peppermint and something indefinable and intoxicating. She was instantly addicted, and the sound she made deep in her throat was half surprise, half satisfaction.

Dean pulled her bottom lip between his, nibbling gently, and she gasped at the feeling. Her lips parted slightly, and he teased her with his tongue, lapping at her. He tasted even better than he smelled, and she wanted more of him. Her hands slid to his waist, holding him closer as her tongue mated and played with his.

He was heaven -- she'd never felt so much from a single kiss, and she needed him closer, needed to feel his skin against hers, and --

"Ow!" She involuntarily jerked away as his hand slid from her hair to her cheek, jarring against her injured eye on the way.

His eyes flew open and he took a step back, bumping into the kitchen counter. He stared at her, his eyes glassy and unfocused for a moment.

"God, Morgan, I'm sorry, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I... you didn't hurt me, just startled me a little."

Morgan tried to smile at him, to reassure him, but his gaze darted this way and that, everywhere but at her, and she was suddenly apprehensive.

"Dean -- "

He glanced at the clock and his eyes widened. "Wow, that's the time? I should really go, but you're okay?"

She blinked, taken aback by his sudden shift in demeanor. "I'm fine, and thank you for all your help, but, Dean -- "

"I'm glad you're okay." He smiled, but she thought fleetingly that now he was the one who looked trapped. Wordlessly, with another small, uncomfortable nod, he was gone. A minute later, she heard the front door close.

Morgan leaned against the kitchen counter, stunned.

"What the hell just happened here?"


	6. Chapter 6

 

Playing with the popcorn in her bowl, Morgan sighed as Cassidy and Jeremy laughed at the familiar scene on screen. Cass turned her head to look at Morgan, and then she paused the movie.

"Okay, what is up with you?"

Morgan glanced at her, startled. "What? Nothing, put the movie back on."

Cassidy rolled her eyes. "Please, it's not like we haven't _Clue_ six hundred times. If there were other people here, I might be worried about annoying them, but it's just the three of us. What's bothering you?"

"Aside from the fact that you look like Rocky the morning after."

Morgan glared at Jeremy. "Thanks, Jer."

"Any time," he said with a sunny smile.

"Dean kissed me," Morgan said with another sigh.

Their eyes widened simultaneously. If she weren't so depressed and confused, Morgan might have laughed.

"You left that part out!" Cassidy said, just as Jeremy said, "When?"

Then, in sync again, they both frowned.

"I'm missing something."

"This is bad how?"

"It's a long story."

Jeremy glared at her, and Cassidy turned off the TV and then turned to face her, an expectant expression on her face.

"Spill," she said, and Morgan remembered how Dean had demanded that of her shortly before he'd kissed her. It didn't help her mood.

"I didn't tell you guys, but Adam tried to warn me weeks ago that Dean was only interested in getting into my pants."

"What?" Cassidy exclaimed, just as Jeremy said, "I don't believe that."

"I don't know what to believe. Before we kissed, he was pretty flirty, and I was confused, so I tried to keep him at arms' length, but he's always been polite and he's done nothing -- _nothing_ \-- to back up Adam's claim. But every time Adam sees us together, he gives me these concerned, disapproving looks. So there's gotta be some reason."

She rubbed her forehead in frustration, wincing as she hit a tender spot. Three days since The Incident, and her eye was still looking worse instead of better every time she passed a mirror.

"I don't understand," Jeremy said.

"Me either," Morgan replied.

"No, I don't get why you didn't tell us this!"

He sounded hurt, and Morgan shrugged. "Why? You guys would have told me to stay away from him and I'm sick of you worrying about me! And I didn't want to stay away from him! I like him! He just confuses the hell out of me."

"How?" Cassidy looked hurt too, but she seemed to be more interested in helping Morgan figure out what was up.

"He's been very sweet and very caring and just... wonderful. I don't know what the hell Adam's talking about. And then, he helped patch me up the other night when I got home, and one thing led to another, and he kissed me -- and it was an _amazing_ kiss, by the way." She smiled at them, and they both smiled back, but hesitantly, waiting for the rest of the story.

"He ran," Morgan said with another shrug.

Cassidy raised an eyebrow.

"I mean it. I think he literally did run. We were kissing, and God knows where it would have led, and then he accidentally bumped my eye and I flinched, and it was like... whatever spell he was under, he snapped out of it. And he's been avoiding me. I can hear him in the backyard -- I know it's him, Adam never goes back there -- and I'm sure he's home, I see his truck and his motorcycle, but he's never out in the front yard. He was always out front before."

She sighed. "I like him, guys. _Really_ like him. I don't know what to do."

Jeremy threw his arm around her and hugged her, and Cassidy rubbed her hand in sympathy.

"It really doesn't make sense for him to run like that if he's only interested in sex," Jeremy mused. "None of it makes any sense. I think you should go confront him."

Morgan glanced uncertainly at him. "I'm afraid to. I'm afraid to know the truth."

"I think Adam's full of crap," Cassidy said. "Nothing you've told me about Dean suggests he's trying to get you into bed."

"You'd think he would have tried more than a kiss by now if he _were_ trying to get me to sleep with him, and like you said, Jer, he definitely wouldn't have run when he was succeeding so well! But still... why would Adam say that? And what's up with Dean? I guess I just don't know him very well."

"It'll work out, Mor," Cassidy told her, and Jeremy nodded.

"Yeah, or I'll go kick his ass."

Morgan had to smile at Jeremy's words. As much as she loved her friend, she knew Dean would wipe the floor with him.

"Thanks, Jeremy."

"No problem! I'll defend my girls to the death, you know that. So, let's change the subject to something less gloomy and doomy. How's work going?"

Morgan groaned. "That's another thing. I hate my job."

Jeremy gasped dramatically. "Say it isn't so! Morgan Huston, the number one Disney fan, _hates_ working for them? No!"

She smacked him. "They have me backstage on parade. Most boring job ever -- I don’t know anyone I'm working with, and they all stare and whisper and give me this fake sympathy. It's miserable. I can't wait until this stupid eye heals."

"Did they say how long you're stuck on that job?" Cassidy asked her, and Morgan shook her head.

"Until the bruise isn't visible, I'd imagine. Can't have a cast member onstage with anything as unseemly as a black eye, y'know. Tarnishes the Disney image."

Jeremy bit his lip. "Might be a while, Morgan. That's a bad shiner."

She sighed miserably. "I know."

Cassidy stuck her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. "Poor Morgan. Things'll get better, though. They always do, you know that. Give it some time."

Morgan laughed. The refrain was a familiar one. "Yeah, I know. _Clue_ will cheer me up, I hope. Where were we?"

"One plus two plus one plus one," Jeremy said, and they all giggled as Cassidy turned the TV back on.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 __

Cassidy was right, as usual, Morgan thought a few days later as she headed for work, which still sucked, but she was resigned to it now. If anything, it only reinforced the lesson of not jumping in between two guests. Not only did she get an incredibly unattractive black eye for her efforts, she also got the job from hell.

"Won't do it again," she muttered. "Let ‘em kill each other and let God and security sort them out."

Even if work sucked, though, other things had improved. Slightly.

Dean was no longer hiding from her. She hadn't had a chance to talk to him, but he'd been out front when she'd left for work the day after her talk with Cassidy and Jeremy, and he'd cautiously waved to her. When she'd waved back, his concerned expression had melted into a beautiful smile.

It had only confused her more, but at least he wasn't avoiding her anymore. She could handle confused -- it was nothing new where Dean was concerned -- as long as she got to occasionally see him. At least, that was what she kept telling herself. She almost had herself convinced, too.

Morgan glanced in the rearview mirror. "Few more days," she said. It was her new mantra. Her eye was healing -- aggravatingly slowly, but it was healing. A few more days and she could go back to her regular job.

She sighed as she pulled into the cast member lot. Work had rapidly become something to be endured, and she'd thought that had ended when she'd quit working for Carl. She couldn't wait to get back to Space Mountain. She couldn't wait for her life to be fun again.

 __

At least the work part of it, she thought as she headed for the shuttle. _The rest of it... that might take a bit longer._

  


 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

When Morgan got home from work that night, Dean's truck was parked in the driveway instead of in its usual spot in the garage. He was standing at the open tailgate, looking at something in the truck's bed. Her heart was fluttering again, and she wondered if she should approach him or just leave him be.

He'd given her a wave when she'd passed him, and she'd waved back. He wasn't avoiding her anymore, but she wasn't sure how close he was ever going to let himself get to her again.

"Well, I'm expecting bills. And my mailbox is right there. So I have a reason. And you gotta love rationalization..."

She walked to the end of the driveway, and Dean glanced up as she was reaching into her mailbox.

"Hi," she said nervously.

"Hey." He gave her a smile, and it was genuine, but he looked away extremely quickly.

There was a very awkward pause. Morgan passed the time by leafing through the envelopes she'd just pulled out of her mailbox. Not that there was anything interesting, but it was easier than watching him avoid her gaze. Just as she was getting ready to turn around and head inside, he cocked his head to one side and studied her.

"It looks better."

"What?" she asked as she looked back at him, perplexed.

"Your eye. It looks better."

"Yeah, a little."

"Good. I'm glad." He was friendly and open now, but not flirty as he'd once been. She didn't know how to react.

"Yeah, thanks." Desperate for some sort of deeper reaction from him, she nodded towards his truck. "What are you doing?"

"Hmm?"

"Your truck, those bricks."

"Blocks," he corrected absentmindedly, tapping one of the blocks with the notepad he held. "It's nothing special. I'm just arranging some samples for a particularly demanding customer."

Morgan nodded, and there was another awkward silence. She took a closer look at one of the envelopes she'd been staring at mindlessly. "Oh... this is Adam's. Is he home? I can give it to him."

"I'll give it to him."

When he took the envelope, his fingers brushed hers, and they both jumped. Dean pulled his hand away very quickly.

Morgan stifled a sigh. It was clear that was all she was going to get from him today. But at least he'd talked to her and hadn't gone running in the opposite direction. It was a beginning.

"Well, I should get inside. Guess I'll talk to you soon."

"Yep," he said with a nod, giving her another smile. It made her ache with longing as she turned and trudged towards her own house.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

"I'm serious, Cassidy! It's driving me nuts! _He's_ driving me nuts!" Morgan was pacing the living room as she talked on the phone, and she kept glancing out through the curtains at the yard next door. "And now I'm watching his front yard and pacing like a suspicious housewife. I'm a stalker! In my own house!"

Cassidy laughed. "I don't think it's quite that serious. But you're right; it's making you a little edgy. Why don't you talk to him?"

"I've tried. Whenever I see him, I try to start a conversation, but he stays on very broad, neutral, _safe_ subjects," Morgan said with a sigh.

"Well, then you have to be the one to introduce the narrow, relevant, possibly dangerous, possibly rewarding subjects. I know you can do it -- you're the one who asked Rob to the movies the first time. I remember."

Morgan groaned. "That was a long, long time ago. And I knew he was interested -- he just wasn't brave enough to make the first move. This is different." She huffed in frustration and dismay and threw herself onto the couch. "This is ridiculous. It was one kiss -- a hell of a kiss, I'll admit. But it was one kiss and we're in our mid-twenties -- hell, he's in his late twenties. There should not be this much drama."

"It's because you're really interested in him, Morgan. Which is great, I'm glad you've found someone that could make you happy. I just wish you weren't having so many difficulties. And if he breaks your heart, I'll help Jeremy kick his ass."

"Thanks, Cass, but I think he'd actually have to _talk_ to me for that to happen." Morgan sighed. "So we've established why I'm freaking out. Why's he?"

"That I don't know. You need to ask him."

She watched as the little white compact pulled into the adjacent driveway. "I can't ask him, but there _is_ someone I can ask. I'll talk to you later, Cass. Adam's home."

Saying her goodbyes, she hung up before marching determinedly next door and rapping on Adam's front door. When there was no immediate answer, she knocked harder. After a moment, Adam opened it a crack and warily looked out.

"Oh, Morgan, hi," he said, opening it fully. "You don't have to pound on it, y'know. I thought it was the Gestapo or the Secret Service or something."

"We need to talk."

He looked surprised at her abruptness. "Okay. Come on in, then."

"I don't understand you, Adam." She dropped onto his couch, feeling the frustration and confusion boiling up inside her.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Before Dean moved in, you were all fired up for me to meet him, said he was a great guy, and I'd love him. And then, after he got here, you came over and gave me cryptic warnings, and now, every time he and I talk to each other, you're frowning at me! I don't get it!"

Adam sighed as he sat in the armchair beside her. "I... before he moved in, when he first called and we got to talking, I remembered the way he used to be, back when we were such good friends, and then he moved in, and... he's so different."

"High school was ten years ago for you and him, Adam. People change."

"Yeah, but I was hoping... he'd changed back, I guess. He and I used to be so tight, and he was such a great guy, and then he got in with the jocks and the cheerleaders and the A list crowd, and he was too cool for us poor, huddled masses. I was hoping once he'd gotten away from high school, he'd be Dean again."

"He _is_ Dean. All grown up."

"Yeah." Adam didn't look pleased at that notion.

"So, what, you were expecting him to be a tenth grader at twenty seven?"

"I was expecting him to be a friend."

Morgan said nothing. Adam's idea of a friend was someone who would sit and listen to him whine about his life for hours, someone who would never complain about their own problems. She'd seen him go through several "friends" and that's why she'd wisely decided to stay at the perimeter of his life. Until now.

"He's got some strange stuff going on, Morgan," Adam said. "He's always by himself -- in his room, or off on that motorcycle or out at night, and I know he's not working. He's dedicated, but he's not _that_ dedicated. And he's always making all these hushed phone calls, and I don't know what it's about."

 __

That's why they're hushed, Morgan thought. _Because he knows you're trying to listen to every word!_ The idea that Dean had something hidden and sinister going on was almost laughable, and she tried to remind herself that she really didn't know him all that well. That was why she was here, after all.

She remembered what Dean had said -- and it was almost funny, the wistful tone in Adam's voice matched the one she'd heard from Dean in his brief narrative.

"It's funny that you say you lost that friendship, because he says you stayed good friends, throughout school, even after you were both into your own thing."

Adam snorted. "His idea of good friends, maybe. Definitely not mine."

"But you had other friends, just like he did. I've heard you talk about them. I've even met some of them."

"Well, yeah..."

 __

But they weren't the cool kids, Morgan finished for him. "So how does any of that lead to a warning to stay away from him?"

"I wasn't really warning you -- okay, maybe I was a little. But you're a good friend, Morgan, and I didn't want to see you become just another notch on the bedpost. Dean went through about a girlfriend a week back then."

"Back then," she repeated skeptically.

"Look, I told you something's weird with him. I don't want to see you get hurt or caught in anything strange, okay?"

 __

So what we have here is a kid who was... maybe not rejected, but not dragged into the cool crowd with his best friend in high school, who is now someone who wants that friendship back exactly the way it was, and who's disappointed. So, jealousy? Adam is definitely the kind of guy to still be holding grudges over high school crap. He's not informed on every aspect of Dean's life and he can't handle that. And I'm beginning to see why Paul left. Okay, that was mean. Morgan's thoughts were racing, and she almost missed what Adam was saying.

"...know why you're so concerned all of a sudden."

She glared at him. "I'm not... I'm just trying to figure out what's going on here."

"Well, you already told him to leave you alone, didn't you? So what does it matter?"

Morgan blinked, startled. "What? What do you mean?"

Adam stared at her. "Well, you must have given him the brush-off; he hasn't been over there or anything, and he was all mopey for a few days, so I just figured you'd told him to go away or he'd given up. And lately he's been out and about and smiling again, so apparently he's back on the prowl."

Morgan was stunned, and more hurt than she wanted to admit. Before she could react, she heard the garage door rumble as it opened.

Dean was home, and she was torn between fleeing and staying to say hello. Adam said nothing, just watching her, and she sighed and sat back as the door from the garage to the house slammed. She could hear Dean toss his keys on the counter.

"Adam," Dean called. "You parked too far over again -- I don't care if my truck gets dinged, it's company property, but you're -- where are you?"

"Living room!" Adam replied.

"But you're gonna cry if -- " Dean stuck his head in the room. "Oh. Morgan, hi. Your eye's looking better, that's good."

"Yeah, it's feeling better. Doesn't hurt nearly as much," she said with a smile.

"I was getting ready to call you, actually," he said, returning the smile.

"You were?" she asked, hoping her voice was steady. She stared into his eyes, trying to read him, but he was as inscrutable as ever. At least he wasn't avoiding her gaze anymore.

"I'm thinking of making chicken tostadas for dinner. Want some?"

Morgan didn't know what to say. Was he trying to get back into her good graces, or was that just wishful thinking? Maybe he _had_ moved on past her, and this was just a friendly overture. Maybe he was only asking to be polite, since she was already there.

She needed more time to figure out what was going on with him. Dinner would be good; she could observe him, maybe even get up the courage to ask him what the hell was going on.

Besides, he was an excellent cook, and she was starving. And all she had at home was the makings of a ham sandwich. Maybe even the makings of _half_ a ham sandwich. The decision was made, then.

"That sounds great. Do you need any help?"

"Nope, it's easy. But you could keep me company."

"Sure," she replied, heading for the kitchen. Adam followed right on her heels -- definitely too close for comfort, and she felt like stopping just to see if he'd slam into her.

Conversation during the prep and the meal was light and full of laughter. All three of them were involved in an informal competition to see who could provide the "dumbest guest/customer" story and, not surprisingly, Morgan was winning.

"I haven't been working there long," she said with a laugh, "But you wouldn't believe some of the things I've been asked. Turn off the rain, turn down the heat... it's like people think they're in a bubble!"

"No way," Dean said in disbelief.

"I think they're just trying to get a reaction out of you," Adam said skeptically.

"Well, if that's the case, it works!" She grinned. "But no, I truly do think some of these people leave their brains at the gate."

"Well, Dean, your turn." Adam scooped the last of the ice cream out of his bowl.

"Mine aren't funny unless you know masonry. And even then -- not all that funny."

"I win then!" Morgan said, beaming, and the men laughed.

"Yes, you win," Dean told her, patting her hand mock-condescendingly. She would have stuck her tongue out at him, but she was too busy being surprised that he'd touched her.

There was a pause then, one of the comfortable kind, the kind that says that the meal's over and it's time to go home.

Morgan pushed her chair back from the table. "Well that was excellent -- as usual, Dean -- but I should be getting home. Thank you for dinner."

"I'll walk you," he said, and she glanced at him, still taken aback by what seemed to be his sudden change of heart.

"I'll go with," Adam said quickly.

"That's okay," Dean told him. "I think we'll be safe, but thanks. I'll be back in a bit."

They headed out the door, and Morgan did her best to ignore Adam's glare burning into her back. She wasn't even sure if Dean noticed it. It was a quiet walk; Morgan was building her courage.

When they got to her door, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She turned to him, and the uncertain look on his face tore at her. She wanted to reassure him, tell him that everything was okay, but she wasn't sure it was.

"Morgan, I -- "

"Don't," she told him. "If you're sorry about it, I don't want to hear it."

"Well, good. Because I'm not. Sorry, I mean. Not about... I'm sorry about the way I reacted."

She stared at him, and then she sighed and shook her head. "You confuse the hell out of me, Dean."

He gave her a wry smile. "Glad I'm not the only one."

"Are you seeing someone?" She really didn't mean for it to come out as jealous-harpy sounding as it did.

His eyes widened. "What? No!"

His reaction seemed very real, but she'd given up trying to read him. "I know it really isn't any of my business, but if you are, I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me. I'd rather know the truth."

"No, I'm not... I'm just... I..." He sighed. "I'm making a mess of this, that's what I'm doing."

Morgan smiled. "You look very cute doing it though."

"Cute is not the look I'm going for," he said, scowling.

"Oh, it's a good look on you," she murmured as she hooked her fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and pulled him closer. "Very good..."

This time _he_ made the sound of surprise as she kissed him, but he adjusted quickly. His mouth crushed hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth to battle hers for dominance. She curled one hand around the back of his head, toying with the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and he moaned into the kiss, pinning her against her front door.

The long length of his body was pressed tightly against her, and she could feel his arousal and the heat of his body through his jeans. His hands were at her waist, gripping her tightly as he plundered her mouth, and those fingers she had dreamt about were teasing the sensitive skin just above her waistband. Wanting more, she slid her other hand down his back and cupped his ass, and a little tiny bit of her was shocked by her boldness.

Dean jumped and a sound almost like a growl rumbled up through his chest as he ground his hips against hers. Breathing was becoming difficult, but Morgan weighed it against the idea of ending the kiss, and she decided she didn't need air.

The headlights of a passing car briefly illuminated the front porch and they both froze as the light swept over them. Dean broke the kiss, trying to back away from her, but she grabbed his sweater, keeping him close.

"Are you going to run?" she asked, panting.

He gazed at her, his eyes nearly hidden in the darkness, but she could see them shine as he smiled. He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek.

"No," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

"Why did you run last time?"

He hesitated, taking her hand in his, staring down at her fingers as he played with them. She watched as his fingers skimmed over the birthstone ring she wore, the one that had been her mother's.

"Dean?" she asked after a moment.

"I was scared," he admitted, but that was all he said.

"And you're not scared now?" she prompted. She definitely was.

"A little," he said, and she frowned.

"This is kind of a sudden turnaround," Morgan told him. "Yesterday, you could barely look at me."

"I just needed some time to realize that it's a good kind of scared," he murmured, still staring at her hands. He glanced up, and even in the darkness, she could tell the intensity had returned to his gaze. "Good night, Morgan."

She studied him, held by his stare, confusion warring with happiness. Happiness won, and she smiled. She really hoped it didn't look as goofy as it felt.

"Good night," Morgan whispered back as he gave her hand one last squeeze and then turned and walked back across the lawn. She wrapped her arms around herself and watched him until he disappeared back into the house. She was shivering when she finally turned and went inside, but it was more from the loss of his warmth than from a chill in the air.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Morgan looked up from her book and out through the living room window as another car passed. When the car continued down the street, she sighed and tossed her book onto the table. It was merely an excuse, and she knew it. She'd brought it into the living room so she could stare out the window and see Dean when he got home.

Yawning, she rubbed at her eyes, grinning when she realized that she'd done so without pain. The bruising was finally gone, the pain was gone, and tomorrow, she could go back to Space Mountain.

"Finally," she muttered. If she never worked another parade shift, it would be too soon.

She stared out the window, lost in thought. It had been a week and a half since the night they'd talked -- and more -- on her porch. She'd been over to Dean's place three times for dinner, and he'd walked her home every time, ending their night with a searing kiss.

He hadn't pushed her for more, but the last time she'd almost invited him in, and she had a feeling if she had, he might have been cooking her breakfast the next morning.

Morgan shifted on the couch. The thought was exciting and terrifying at the same time. Rob was the only guy she'd ever been intimate with, and she and Dean... well... she wasn't even sure what she and Dean were. Were they dating? They'd never really gone anywhere that could really be called a date. Part of it was her crazy schedule, but that wasn't the whole reason, and she knew it.

"Well, if you were a normal girl, he could take you out to dinner," she muttered, resting her head on the back of the couch. Just the thought of it made her queasy.

She was so focused on trying to work things out in her head that she almost didn't register Dean's truck pulling into the driveway next door. The neighborhood was still and quiet in the early evening air, so she couldn't miss the frantic yapping that emanated from the cab as Dean opened the door.

Morgan's eyes widened. "What the hell?" she exclaimed, peering out the window.

"Quiet, you noisy little beast!" Dean said as he came around the front of the truck and reached into the passenger side. She gasped as he pulled out a squirming, yipping puppy of some kind.

"Oh my God!" she said, laughing. She couldn't stay inside, not when confronted with that bait, and she hurried through the front door. Dean looked up at her, and his half-annoyed, half-frantic look faded into a look of enormous relief when he saw her.

The puppy was wiggling crazily in Dean's arms, and it began barking even more energetically when she got closer. Its heritage wasn't immediately clear -- it was pretty dirty -- but it looked like some sort of terrier mix.

"Morgan, hi -- stop squirming!"

She laughed. "He's adorable!"

"He's a mess."

"Where'd you get him?"

"At work -- one of the lift drivers found him out in the yard between two rows of pallets, just sitting there, whimpering. Someone hit a dog a couple days ago out on the street in front of the plant, and I think she might have been his mother."

"Oh, how sad!" She felt instant empathy for the little dog.

"Yeah."

Morgan watched as Dean looked down at the puppy, scratching him under the chin. He was obviously a dog person, and she found it endearing. _How many other guys would rescue a puppy?_ she thought, and it only made her like him more.

"You gonna keep him? Oh, but you can't -- "

He shook his head. "Nope, can't. The puppy's cute, and I'd like to keep him, but there's just a bunch of reasons I can't. I'm not planning on staying here, don't know where I will be, and while I'm here, it's kinda rude to go, ‘Oh, by the way, I brought a dog home.' Besides, even if I _did_ feel comfortable doing that, Adam's allergic. But I spoke with him on the phone, and he agreed to let me keep the puppy for tonight -- no one else could take him home for the night."

She'd stepped closer, and she was scratching the puppy's scruffy ears. He had calmed down and was wiggling in Dean's arms and making happy little puppy sounds. "So what are you going to do with him tomorrow?"

"I don't know. I'll probably keep him locked in the laundry room tonight -- he'd get to Adam, and I can't let him out anyway, he tore up the office in a matter of minutes. We named him Chaos. We had to keep him locked up out in the garbage enclosure."

Morgan ruffled the fur of his head, and he gave her a little doggy smile. "He's so little. He can't be _that_ much trouble."

Dean laughed. "Would you like to keep him, then? Otherwise I'm going to have to take him to the animal shelter."

She stared at him. "You just told me you named him Chaos and he destroyed the office in minutes. Not exactly a sterling recommendation." He just shrugged, scratching the puppy under the chin. "Dean!" she said in protest. "I can't just take a puppy!"

They both stared back at her, and she felt her resolve melting. Chaos' big brown eyes were adorable, but they weren't nearly as effective as Dean's puppy dog expression. She realized that when he looked at her like that, she'd promise him anything, and _that_ was a dangerous thought.

"Dean," she said warningly, but she knew she was lost. "Oh, all right. I suppose I could use a little chaos in my life," she finally said with a grin, taking the puppy from him.

Chaos yipped happily, and Dean laughed. "Are you sure? I really didn't mean to pressure you -- "

"Sure you did," she said, cuddling the puppy. "But it's okay. Maybe I need a little gentle pressure occasionally, you know? In order to make some changes in my life."

"I'll remember that," he said with a wicked gleam in his eye, and she flushed.

"I'm gonna go give Chaos here a bath."

"Shut the bathroom door," he warned. "Or you'll be chasing him all over the house."

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

"Chaos! No! This way. This way!" Morgan fought the puppy, who was still adjusting to the leash. He hated it, but she wanted him to learn. He growled and twisted his head to bite at it, and she laughed and shook the leash and told him, "No!"

"Having trouble? Need some help?"

She peered into the dark garage. The door of Dean's truck was open, and in the light from the cab, she could see Dean leaning against the side of the truck, watching her. "No, we're doing just fine, thank you."

"Of course you are. I can see you have everything under control," Dean said with a laugh as Chaos danced around her in a circle and wrapped her in the leash.

"What are you doing in there, in the dark?"

"Getting something out of my truck. I _was_ going back inside, but then I heard you fighting with him."

"Glad to know we're such great entertainment. We're not fighting -- Chaos! Stop!" She laughed as she unwound herself, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "He's just trying to live up to his name. Why couldn't you have named him... Tranquility, or something?"

"Does he look like a Tranquility to you?" he asked, shutting the truck door and ambling down the driveway towards her.

She laughed and picked the puppy up. "No, I guess not. When she sees him this weekend, Cassidy's going to adore him. I'm going to have to fight to keep him. Her dogs would eat him for breakfast though; he's just a little guy."

"Cassidy?" he asked, scratching the puppy's head. "Hey, boy."

"My friend -- I know I've told you about her. She loves dogs. Has three."

He grinned. "Now I remember her."

"You know, I'd love for you to meet her -- and Jeremy and a couple of my other friends. We have a weekly movie night, and it's at my house this weekend. You should come -- you and Adam."

"I'd hate to intrude -- "

"No way. And, since it's your first time, you'd even get to pick the movies."

Dean smiled. "Sure. Sounds fun. I'll ask Adam."

"Just tell him Jeremy'll be there -- he'll be dragging you across the yard to get there."

Dean gave her an inquiring lift of his eyebrows, and she laughed and shook her head.

"Not a chance in hell as far as Jer's concerned," she said, and he grinned.

"You working tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yeah, morning shift at Space. Should be home by dinner time," she said promptingly.

Dean laughed. "Well, that _was_ why I was asking. I'll expect you here, then."

"Yay!" she said happily, and he grinned at her enthusiasm. His smile softened, and he pulled her close and kissed her temple.

"Someone's gotta take care of you," he murmured, and she felt her whole body tremble at the notion. Chaos barked, and they drew apart.

"I should probably take him in," she said, and he nodded. "See you tomorrow," she added.

"Count on it," he said, smiling as he scratched Chaos behind the ear.


	7. Chapter 7

 

"You're cleared for takeoff," Morgan told the little boy, setting aside the measurement stick, and he giggled and raced through the entrance. His father smiled gratefully at her and followed him.

"Barry! Slow down, son!"

"Whoa," Amanda said next to her, and Morgan turned to look at her.

"What?"

"Hottie," the girl said under her breath. "Heading this way."

Morgan tried to glance surreptitiously, and froze in surprise. "What are you doing here?" she exclaimed, feeling a huge grin break over her face.

Dean stopped before her, a matching grin on his face, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. He was wearing a light grey t-shirt that showed off his physique, and his favorite pair of jeans, which were soft and worn and molded to fit every curve and plane of his body. The sun shone off his dark hair, making it glint with red and gold highlights.

He was definitely a sight to make a crappy morning better.

"I was in the neighborhood. Figured I'd stop by."

She laughed. "Yeah, right!"

"I had the day off, so I thought I'd surprise you."

"You sneak! This is why you asked last night if I was working today."

"You figured me out." He shrugged. "I haven't been here in years. I decided it was time to change that."

"You bought a ticket? Dean! I could have gotten you in -- "

"Ah, but then I wouldn't have been able to see the expression on your face when I surprised you."

"You _did_ surprise me."

"Good." He turned to Amanda, who was monitoring the guests as they entered the ride, giving Dean and Morgan a chance to talk. "Would I get her in trouble if I kissed her?" he asked, glancing at Morgan out of the corner of his eye.

Morgan blinked, surprised. "Yes!" she hissed, thinking, _He's in a playful mood today!_

Amanda just stared at him and then at Morgan, and Morgan thought she could detect more than a hint of envy in the girl's eyes.

Dean grinned mischievously. "Too bad. You look cute, by the way," he said, tugging on her collar.

"Cute, huh?"

"Yep. And it's a good look on you, too."

"I can't believe you're here," she said, smiling.

"I was hoping you'd be where I could see you, and not in the bowels of the building somewhere."

"You're in luck, half an hour earlier and I would have been."

"Lucky me." He winked and then glanced around. "I'd better go -- I really _don't_ want to get you into trouble."

"I'm off in half an hour, are you planning on leaving soon?"

"What'd you have in mind?" he asked with a grin. "Know any good places to make out?"

She was startled, but she did her best to hide it from him, deciding instead to call his bluff. "I know _all_ of them," she told him. His eyes narrowed and darkened, and she wondered, too late, if it had been a good idea.

"In front of the castle in an hour."

Her body warmed at his demanding tone. She knew he was only playing, but it had no less of an effect on her. "An hour and a half," she corrected.

He nodded, conceding. "Can't wait," he said with a wink, sauntering past her through the ride's entrance.

"Me either," she muttered.

"Who was _that_?" Amanda craned her neck to follow his progress.

Morgan just grinned.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

"Where to next?" Dean asked her, and she rested her head on his shoulder while she thought about it.

"We've done Tomorrowland."

"Yep."

"And the Matterhorn and Big Thunder," she said, counting off on her fingers.

"Mm hmm."

"Pirates."

"Yep."

"You bored?" she asked, and he stopped walking. He glanced down at her.

"No. Why would you ask that?"

Morgan shrugged, looking down. "Don't know." Her friends were used to her affection for Disneyland, and Rob and his friends had tolerated it, but now, with Dean, it seemed a little childish.

He tipped her chin up with his finger, staring into her eyes. His gaze was open and honest -- a little troubled.

"No," he said firmly. "I'm here, with you, and I'm having a good time. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"It's not the most mature entertainment."

"It's fun. And you love it, I can tell. It makes you happy," Dean said earnestly.

She smiled self-consciously. "Yeah. It... I know it's not sophisticated, but it always makes me happy. Even working here, knowing it's people and machines, and not magic and pixie dust, it's just... how could you not be happy here?"

"I don't know -- ask him," Dean said with a wry smile, glancing over at a nearby family. The youngest son, a toddler about two years old, his face sticky with God knew what, was sitting in the stroller, bawling at the top of his lungs.

"He's just had a little too _much_ happiness," she said with a chuckle.

"It's good to see you happy."

Morgan looked into his eyes, smiling. "It's good to be happy."

He drew her closer in the middle of the walkway, ignoring the people that streamed around them. He was about to kiss her, and she was about to let him, and then she stopped and stepped away from him, looking around. "What?" he asked, glancing around as well.

She took three steps to the left. "Right here."

"What? Buried treasure? Secret underground tunnels?"

Smiling, Morgan hit him in the arm. "No, dope. I was right here when that guy hit me."

She watched as his face darkened, his fists clenching for a moment. "Bastard," he growled, and she was amused when a nearby woman threw him a dirty look and pushed her kid forward and away from Dean.

"Language, Dean," she scolded him, laughing.

He glared at her and then drew her closer to him, kissing the temple where the injury had been. "You ever see him again, you point him out. I'll kick his ass."

Morgan laughed. "I think that's pretty unlikely. But thank you."

"You never know. You could run into him when you're walking Chaos or something. So, where to next?"

"Haunted Mansion?" she suggested.

"That's a dark one, isn't it?" he asked with a wicked grin.

"There are cameras everywhere," she warned him.

"Don't care," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his side.

"Dean!" she laughed, steering them in the correct direction.

"What? Wouldn't be the first time they got a show, I'm sure."

"I have to work here. I may have to work with one of these people!"

"Don't worry," he whispered into her ear. "They'll never see your face."

She shoved him away in mock outrage, her face burning. He chuckled and grabbed her hand, keeping her near to him as they wandered through the empty queuing area towards the front of the old, Victorian looking house.

"It's not all that crowded today, is it?" he observed.

"It's Monday," she said in explanation, and then she stopped as the realization hit. He stopped with her, and the teenagers behind them squawked in protest. She stepped to the side, tugging him a bit closer so the kids could get by. "You just happened to have a Monday off?" she asked him in disbelief.

Dean shrugged. "I had a day off coming."

"So you took it to come to Disneyland?"

"No, I took it to be with you. You just happened to be at Disneyland."

Morgan studied his face, and she couldn't help but remember when Rob's brother Jamie had gotten married, and Rob had spent the first half of the flight up north to Washington grumbling about having to take the time off from work.

She'd finally snapped, "For God's sake, Rob, it's your brother's _wedding!_ " He'd stopped whining, but he'd glared at her and stayed annoyed the whole flight, shifting and fidgeting in his seat.

"Morgan?"

Shaking herself out of the reverie, she smiled. "I'm very glad you did."

"Me too," he said with a grin. "I wanted to spend some time with you -- we only see each other for dinner or for a few moments when one of us is either leaving or getting home."

"I'm sorry, my schedule -- "

"It's not your fault, Morgan. It's just the way things are, but I decided it was time to figure out a way around it. Now come on," he said, "A very dark ride awaits us."

"Dean!" she protested, but she laughed as he dragged her towards the entrance.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Morgan smiled at him as they climbed into their Doom Buggy, gently shoving him away as he leaned closer and leered playfully at her.

"Behave," she whispered.

"Why?"

She laughed. "You don't believe me that there's cameras everywhere."

"And you don't believe me that I don't care." He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer. "You're the one that brought me on the dark ride, knowing my nefarious intentions. C'mon, don't you wanna act like a teenager?"

Morgan laughed again, and he stayed close but behaved as the ride started. She leaned into his shoulder, enjoying both Dean's company and the simple amusement of the ride.

Dean began planting light, soft kisses along her neck and cheek, and she chuckled.

"Dean," she warned.

"Hmm?" he murmured, nuzzling the skin just behind her ear. She shivered, and her objections melted away as he nipped at her. Finally turning her head to find his lips with hers, she felt him grin with satisfaction and triumph.

She shifted as much as she could in the tight confines of the ride as Dean cradled her head with his hand. The ride -- and the world -- faded away as she lost herself in him. He nibbled and lapped at her, tasting and teasing her as his fingers stroked the underside of her breast through her shirt.

Her hand rested on the soft material of his shirt, over his chest, and she could feel his heart racing. Dean shifted towards her, making a frustrated noise as the safety bar over his lap kept him trapped where he was.

She nipped at him and pulled away, laughing. "Told you it was a bad idea," she said breathlessly.

"Oh no," he said, just as breathlessly. "It was an excellent idea."

She smiled and snuggled into him. When she felt his lips on her cheek, she smiled.

"The ride's almost over," Morgan cautioned him.

"I know," he whispered against her skin, and she shivered. "Too bad."

Morgan kept her head down as she exited the ride, feeling her cheeks flush hot with embarrassment, trying not to look at any of the cast members manning the ride. Dean laughed and wrapped his arm around her, keeping her close to his body.

"Are you hungry?" she asked him as they emerged from the ride out into the evening air, and he glanced down at her questioningly. "Well, I _was_ expecting a dinner cooked by you. I suppose I'll have to settle for something lesser," she said with a pout, and he grinned.

Dean glanced at his watch. "Isn't it just about time for the parade?" he asked, and she stared at him.

"Yeah, why?" she asked warily. _Please, God, not the damn parade! Not again!_ She was still reeling from her black-eye induced parade shift binge.

Shrugging nonchalantly, he said, "I dunno, I thought maybe we could watch it. It's been a long time since I saw a parade."

"Oh. Okay, sure," she said, hoping there was _some_ enthusiasm in her voice. He'd willingly gone along with everything she'd suggested -- if he wanted to see the parade, she'd suffer through it. But only because it was Dean. If it had been Cassidy or Jeremy, they'd be out of luck. Not that they'd want to see the parade anyway. She tried to stifle her sigh, and she was afraid she wasn't completely successful.

Dean's lips twitched until he couldn't hold his straight face anymore, and he laughed. "I'm kidding, Morgan. I know you never want to see the parade again. You should see the look on your face -- it looks like I asked you to face a firing squad!"

She punched him the arm. "Don't scare me like that!"

He laughed again. "So, what would you like to eat?"

"You like clam chowder?" she asked.

"I do."

She pointed into New Orleans Square. "That place has fantastic clam chowder. Ooh! A table. I'll get it!"

"Morgan!" he called, laughing as she darted through the crowd. He followed her, making his way a bit more slowly. He suppressed a grin as she slammed her backpack onto the table and slid into the seat, smiling up at the annoyed woman by her side, who'd been a hair too slow in reaching the open table.

She was reaching into her backpack for her wallet when he finally got to the table and caught her arm.

"Don't even think about it," he said sternly.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Thanks," she said with a smile.

After dinner, they wandered around New Orleans Square, looking in the shop windows and observing all the guests. She pointed out Club 33 and various other hidden features, and showed him the way down to the cast member cafeteria.

Night fell around them as the lights came on, and the area began to fill with guests waiting for Fantasmic!. They decided to watch the later show and headed in the direction of Fantasyland.

He watched curiously as kids dragged their parents towards one vendor in particular. "What's all that stuff?"

"All the light-up, glowy stuff. Kids love it. They have whirly bird things and the glow necklaces, and that's supposed to be the rose from _Beauty & the Beast_."

He looked back and forth between her face and the bright objects. "Didn't you say _Beauty & the Beast_ is your favorite Disney movie?"

She smiled, touched that he remembered -- she didn't even remember when she'd told him that. "Maybe..."

Five minutes later, the vendor turned on one of the roses so that a soft light emanated from the fabric petals, and then handed it to Dean. He handed it to Morgan with a smile.

She reached up and gave him a soft kiss. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said. He laughed, looking a little embarrassed. "I feel kinda cheap -- it's not a dozen roses or anything -- "

"This one's perfect," she said firmly. She thought briefly of the one hidden away in her box of mementos. She'd bought it for herself the last time she and Rob had come to the park -- she'd bought everything for herself whenever she and Rob had gone anywhere. _And I've gotta stop doing that,_ she thought. _He's not Rob. Definitely not Rob._ "It's perfect," she repeated. "Thank you."

"So, you wanna ride the teacups?" he asked eagerly, a gleam in his eyes.

"Uh oh," she said.

"C'mon, it'll be fun!"

"Sure," she said with a laugh. There was barely a line, and they were able to get on in no time.

"I'll spin," Dean said, and she laughed and said, "I figured you would."

A few minutes of giddy whirling and they emerged from the ride breathless, dizzy, and laughing.

"Told you it'd be fun," he said, hanging on to her for balance.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," she said with a grin. "And the Haunted Mansion was _more_ fun."

He laughed. "Yes. Yes, it was. Let's go do it again!"

"What time is it?" Morgan grabbed his wrist, turning it so she could read his watch. "Oh, come on!"

Grabbing him by the hand, she dragged him towards Main Street, trying to maneuver them close to the front of the castle.

"Where are we going?" he asked, dodging a stroller.

"Fireworks!" she exclaimed.

"Don't you get to see them every night?"

"Yep. That's the best part of my job!" she said, plopping down on a curb and pulling him down with her.

"I take it you like the fireworks?"

"I love fireworks. And if you're a guest, this is one of the best places in the park to watch them. There's better places backstage, though."

He moved nearer, drawing her close to his side. "I think this is the best place right here."

Morgan unconsciously grinned as the music started, quickly losing herself in the show. She tried not to hum along to the music, not wanting Dean to think she was a _complete_ child, but it was hard.

After a while, she glanced over at him, smiling shyly when she found him watching her. He was smiling too, a soft, gentle smile she'd never seen before.

"You're not watching," she said.

"I am too," he argued with a grin. "It's a beautiful sight."

Morgan blushed, and he laughed and kissed her.

 _I always thought there should be fireworks when we kiss_ , she thought hazily.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

At the end of the night, when they were walking towards the gates, Dean asked, "So where's your car?"

"Cast member lot," she said, pointing in the vague direction of it.

"Is it somewhere I can get to? If it is, I'll take you there."

"You don't have to do that, there's a shuttle -- "

"I want to -- I already feel kinda strange not taking you home after a date, even if it's always been just a walk next door."

Her heart did that fluttery thing when he called it a date -- he also vaguely alluded that their dinners were sort of dates too, and that made it flutter even more. "Thanks, that's sweet of you. And yeah, you can get there -- you could drop me off at the entrance -- they won't let you go any farther in." Something occurred to her. "You have your truck?"

"Nope," Dean said with a grin.

"Your bike?" she asked eagerly.

"Yep."

She laughed. "Well, let's go then!"

The short ride from the park's parking structure to the entrance of the cast member lot wasn't exactly a joyride -- the traffic was bad, and there were too many traffic lights -- but Morgan still fell in love with Dean's motorcycle. Being behind him, with her arms around his chest and her body up snug against his -- her body tingled with desire and excitement, and she sighed in disappointment when they pulled up to the lot's entrance.

He angled his bike off to the side of the entry lane, so that cars could get by them.

"You gonna be okay from here?" he asked as they both dismounted.

She nodded as she handed him the helmet she'd been using. After he secured it, she leaned forward to give him a quick kiss. The area was busy with cast members leaving and arriving, and security was already eyeing them, so she was uncomfortable with the thought of a more elaborate public display of affection.

He went to put his helmet back on, and she stopped him. "Dean... I... I've been to the park a lot, and I've always loved it, but it's been a long time since I've just come to have a good time. I think this is the most fun I've ever had, and I just wanted to say thank you."

Dean gazed at her, his eyes soft and warm like melted chocolate. "I'm glad. I was a little nervous at the idea -- I didn't know if you'd like me just showing up; it's your job, after all. I was hoping to spend some time with you in the park, but I didn't know -- I wasn't sure if you'd still have fun."

"I had an amazing time."

He leaned closer and gave her another kiss, this one a little longer and more involved than the last. When he pulled away, she was breathless -- again -- and slightly dazed. She blinked a few times as she gathered herself, and he gifted her with one of his amazing smiles.

"Drive careful, and I'll see you at home."

"You and Adam coming over tomorrow night?"

"We'll be there."

He tugged his helmet back on and roared out of the parking lot. She flashed her cast member ID at the security guard as she passed the guardhouse on the way to her car. The guard, an older guy named Albert who was always very friendly, gave her a knowing smile, and she couldn't help but smile back.


	8. Chapter 8

 

"So when is he coming?" Cassidy asked as she tossed a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

"Um. They," Morgan said quietly, and Jeremy stopped rooting around in the fridge.

" _Please_ tell me you did not invite Adam."

Morgan raised her palms in surrender. "What was I going to do? He's my neighbor and Dean's housemate! How could I say, 'You can come but he's not invited'?"

"She's right, Jer."

Jeremy sighed, grimly tossing a handful of peanuts into his mouth. "I know, I know. Doesn't mean I can't hate it."

Cassidy rolled her eyes at Jeremy and told Morgan, "I still can't believe Dean surprised you at work."

" _You_ can't believe it," Morgan said, laughing. "Shocked the hell out of me!"

Chaos yelped and Morgan stuck her head into the living room.

"What are you doing to my baby, Diego?"

"We're just playing!" he called defensively.

"Your dogs are much bigger than he is! Don't play so hard!"

"Yes, Mom."

Morgan stuck her tongue out at him just as there was a knock on the door. She hurried to answer it but stopped suddenly to peer into the mirror in the hallway and fix her bangs.

"Look at her primp," Jeremy said, elbowing Cassidy.

Morgan stopped fussing with her hair and glared at him. "I am _not_ primping," she hissed. "I just don't want to look like hell, and who are you to talk, Mr. 'I take an hour to get ready to get my mail!'"

She opened the door and smiled. "Hey, guys."

Jeremy sighed in disappointment. "Oh, it's only Zach and Mandy."

"You expecting Jude Law?" Zach said, shoving a six pack at Jeremy.

"Nope, although I'm not going to ask for an invitation should he decide to show up and crash our little soirée -- we're waiting for Morgan's new man."

"He's not my man," Morgan said as she shut the door behind Mandy, giving her an exasperated smile.

"Hello, making out with people in amusement parks is _my_ gig. _You_ do it, he's your man!" Jeremy told her.

"Yes, but _you_ only do it with total strangers," Morgan said.

"Slut," Cassidy said with a laugh, ruffling his hair and completely pissing him off. Just as he got it back under control, Morgan ran a hand through it, tousling it again.

In the midst of Jeremy's squabble with Cassidy and Morgan, the doorbell rang. Diego answered it, Chaos yipping at his feet. He reached down and yanked the dog back by his collar before the puppy could dash outside.

"Welcome to the asylum," he said, peering up at the newcomers.

"Um, hi," Morgan heard Dean say uncertainly, and she extricated herself from the escalating battle.

"Hey," she said, a little breathless, opening the door wider so they could come in. "Glad you could come."

"Hi," he said with a smile. "Thanks for the invite." He proffered the large bag he held. "Popcorn?"

Cassidy gasped and practically threw Jeremy aside. "Kettle corn!" She grabbed the bag and hurried to the kitchen, fighting Jeremy for it as Chaos ran behind them, barking the whole way.

Morgan smiled. "Told you they'd love you."

"Good to know I won them over with my stunning good looks and charming personality," he said, staring after them in bewilderment.

"Oh, you would have, don't worry, but they saw the food first," she said matter-of-factly, laughing as he blushed. "Hi, Adam," she added.

"Hey, Morgan. Was that Jeremy I just saw?"

Morgan nodded tightly. "Yep, you know him, he's usually working Saturday nights, so when he gets a free one, he's always around for our movie nights."

She led them both into the living room, where Diego handed them drinks. Morgan introduced everybody, glaring at Jeremy when her friend took openly appraising glances at Dean.

Then the battle for seating began.

After the dust settled, Diego and Cassidy shared the couch with Zach and Mandy, and when Dean sat on the loveseat, Adam plopped himself down next to his housemate.

Jeremy, Cassidy, and Diego all stared at him in disbelief. Dean and Morgan just looked at each other.

Adam grabbed a handful of kettle corn and leaned back in his seat, finally noticing the glares he was receiving. "What?"

Morgan shrugged and curled up in one of the armchairs, trying not to show her disappointment. It wasn't worth making a scene over, though, and Adam was definitely the kind of guy who'd make a scene. Besides, he was the guest, and she was the host, so she decided it wasn't right for her to say anything anyway.

Jeremy gave Adam a disgusted look and dropped into the other armchair.

To her surprise, Dean leaned towards Adam and murmured, "Hey, why don't you let Morgan sit there, okay?"

Adam frowned and looked at him. "What?"

"Let Morgan sit there," Dean repeated.

"Why?"

"Dean -- " she started, but the glance he gave her asked her to let him handle this.

"Because I'd like to sit next to her, okay, and it'd be a little uncomfortable for both of us in that armchair."

"But fun," Diego tossed in, and Cassidy smirked as she elbowed him to quiet him.

"Sure, whatever." Adam shrugged and got up, melodramatically gesturing for her to switch places with him. He gave the two of them a long, calculating look, and Morgan was afraid of the thoughts behind that look. He said nothing, though, and for that she was grateful.

"God, grow up," Jeremy muttered, and Cassidy and Diego shot him amused looks, but Morgan didn't think Adam had heard. If he had, he ignored it, and that was unlikely.

There was a beat as everyone digested what had just happened. Morgan settled herself on the loveseat and relaxed against Dean, who put his arm around her and pulled her closer, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. Cassidy shot Morgan a look that said, _That boy is truly strange_ , and she knew Cass wasn't talking about Dean. She gave a tiny shrug, hoping it wasn't very evident.

"Okay, so who's picking?" Zach asked finally.

"Dean," Morgan said with a smile. "'S his first time, after all."

There were snickers, and Jeremy said, "Don't worry, we'll be gentle."

Dean rolled his eyes and laughed, and Morgan chuckled, squeezing his hand to let him know it was all in fun. He looked at the dozen or so DVDs piled on the coffee table and then glanced at her uncertainly, finally asking, "So I just choose?"

"You choose a movie. The rest of us have the right to veto or approve. If more than half the group vetoes, you choose again. If your first three choices are vetoed, you can either keep choosing, or let someone else pick."

"Wow. That's kind of... intimidating," he said with a nervous look on his face.

"Just pick," she said with a grin.

The movie he chose had enough action to keep the boys entertained, and enough cute guys and romance to keep the women happy. There was a quick discussion, but it was mostly for the sake of ritual, and then the movie was approved by everyone, even those who had already seen it. Dean looked extremely relieved.

"That's kind of a crazy process," he whispered to her as the disc was put in and the menu came on screen. There was another pause as people got drinks or went to the bathroom. "How did you come up with it?"

"Years of practice," she whispered back, smiling up at him. "We started in high school -- Zach was really ill for a while and couldn't go out. So we decided that instead of going out on Saturdays and trying to pretend we were -- or weren't -- having fun without him, we decided to stay in and have fun with him. It stuck, and it's tradition now."

He nodded. "Seems like a good one. And -- " He lowered his voice even more, making it barely audible. "And Zach's okay now?"

Morgan nodded. "Yep, he's fine. All better."

"You don't have to whisper, Dean," Zach said from across the room, and she could feel Dean jump in surprise beside her. "It's okay to talk," Zach said, and Dean's sigh of mortified relief made Morgan smile.

"Quiet talking or murmured conversation is acceptable during the movie," she told Dean, imparting more rules. "We've seen most of these movies multiple times -- "

" _Clue_!" Mandy laughed.

Morgan laughed too. "Yes, in some movies -- _Clue_ included -- most or all of us know the entire movie. There are a couple of movies like that. Sarcastic comments are welcomed in any movie at any time. But just be aware that if you talk during someone's favorite scene, you're liable to get popcorn thrown at you."

"My kind of rule," Dean laughed. Everyone settled in and someone hit play on the remote, and he asked her, "Who brought the movies? Are they all yours?"

"Everyone brings one or two they'd like to see, and all of us own tons of movies, just in case none of the ones people brought get chosen or approved."

"There's a lot of rules."

"Helps keep things running smoothly. A lot of us participate in this, and otherwise, trying to pick a movie is chaos."

The dog, who'd been lying quietly on his rug on the hearth, looked up when he heard his name, and Morgan laughed.

"Not you," she said, and he dropped his head back down.

"We didn't bring any movies," Dean noted.

"It's okay, I knew we'd have enough this time. You can bring some next time," she whispered, aware that it was an invitation, and pleased at the happily surprised look that crossed his face. "Now, watch the movie. This is a good part," she said, and Dean looked chastened until she added, "There's explosions."

He laughed, and she grinned and gave him a quick kiss, snuggling into his side.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

"Well?" Morgan asked quietly as she came into the kitchen to refill the empty popcorn bowl. Mandy was warming up the spinach alfredo dip, and Cassidy was pouring drinks. Cassidy leaned against the fridge door.

"Well, we haven't talked much, but he seems very nice -- and I like that he told Adam to move his scrawny ass."

Morgan laughed. "He didn't say that."

"He should have," Cassidy said, shaking her head. "What a moron."

"He's hot," Mandy said, stirring the dip.

"Adam?" Cassidy and Morgan both said incredulously.

"No, idiots," she laughed. "Dean."

Morgan grinned. "Yes. Yes, he is."

"He seems like a sweetheart," Mandy said. "And those eyes..."

"Mandy," Cassidy said, tsking at her. "Should Zach and Morgan be worried?"

Mandy laughed. "No. Definitely not. It's been eight years, and I finally got a ring -- you think I'm gonna give it all up now?"

"Well, isn't this cozy?" Jeremy said as he stuck his head into the kitchen. "What're we doing, ladies?"

"Discussing the new boy," Cassidy said with a smile.

Jeremy grinned wickedly. "He's dreamy..."

"Don't you scare him, Jeremy Butler! I'll kick your ass, and you know that I can."

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. "Please. He lives with Adam and you think _I_ can scare him?"

"Movie's on!" Diego hollered, and Mandy squeaked, "Ooh!" and hurried into the living room.

"I know you can," Morgan said, staring at Jeremy.

His sinful smile faded into a look of hurt. "I know you like him, Morgan -- do you actually think I'd mess it up for you?"

She shook her head. "No... I'm sorry, Jer... 'm just..."

"He likes you," Cassidy said. "More than a little. It's obvious -- he gets all goofy grin when he sees you."

"He does?" she asked, feeling herself smile at the thought.

Jeremy laughed. "Yes, just like that. Now come on, let's go, we're missing the movie!"

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

After the last movie ended, Adam hurried through his goodbyes and rushed out of the house like the hounds of hell were after him. All of Morgan's friends stared at the door as it closed.

"He isn't even going to help us clean up?" Zach asked as he carried glasses into the kitchen.

Dean sighed as he picked some popcorn up off the rug. "I'm sorry about that. Adam -- "

"Hey, you're his roommate, not his keeper," Diego told him. "He's not your problem, man, although I don't know how you do it. After a week with him -- a day -- I'd be looking for my own place."

"It's cheaper," Dean said with a shrug. "Couldn't find a place of my own for anything _near_ what I'm paying now. And for the most part, we have different schedules -- I work days, he mostly works evenings and nights -- and he leaves me alone. But the man has no social skills."

"That's putting it mildly," Jeremy said with a snort.

"The special effects were _whack_ ," Zach was saying as they walked into the kitchen.

"Zach, the movie was made in 1985! You can't expect it to look like it was made yesterday!"

"Come on, Cass, I'm surprised I couldn't see the model strings!"

She laughed, and as they continued the familiar debate, Dean turned to Morgan. "I'll be right back," he murmured, nodding in the general direction of the restroom.

"Okay," she said, and he slipped past her. He touched the small of her back with his hand as he passed, and familiarity of the touch made her blink in surprise at the same time as it gave her a jolt of desire.

There was a lull in the conversation, and when she looked up to see why, they were all staring at her.

"What?" she said self-consciously. "You guys act like you've never seen me with a guy before."

"Well, considering we hardly ever saw you when you were with Rob..." Jeremy muttered, narrowing his eyes at the thought of Morgan's possessive ex.

"And it has been a while," Zach tactlessly pointed out.

"Oh, yes, thank you, Zach. Remind me of the years spent as Morgan the emotional wreck and dateless wonder."

"So are you sleeping with him yet?"

Morgan's mouth fell open and everyone laughed -- half with humor, half with shock -- except for Cassidy. She smacked Diego on the back of the head.

"Diego!" she snapped.

"I cannot believe you just asked me that!" Morgan exclaimed, still in shock. "In front of everybody!"

"Oh, please, this is _us_ , not 'everybody' -- and you know everyone was thinking it."

"Yes, but you're the only one rude enough to ask it!" Cassidy scolded him.

Conversation -- and argument -- stopped as Dean reentered the kitchen. He glanced from one person to another.

"It's never good when that happens," he said, trying to joke about it and not quite covering his nervousness.

"Well, how can we talk about you if you're here?" Jeremy said bluntly, no trace of humor in his voice.

Morgan was shocked for the second time in five minutes. Dean looked extremely uncomfortable. "Jeremy!" she hissed.

"He knows we were; it's only natural, we just met him."

"You -- I -- you guys -- you absolutely astound me," she sputtered. "It's like you were raised by wolves! You can clean the kitchen. I'm going to go into the living room for a few minutes."

Ignoring their surprised indignation, she pulled Dean behind her, and he followed, more than gratefully. She was afraid if she stayed, she'd either get loud or violent with her friends, and she didn't want him to see that.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know what possessed him."

"He's protective of you," he said. "And I'm glad. I'd think less of him if he wasn't."

"That doesn't give him license to be a complete savage. You're a... friend of mine, and he will treat you with respect."

Dean grinned, and she snapped, "What?"

"It's cliché as hell, but you're irresistible when you're angry."

He backed her against the wall of the living room as his mouth swooped down on hers. Her gasp of surprised laughter was lost in the kiss, which heated up until one of his hands was tangled in her hair while the other slid down her back to cup her ass and pull her in tighter to his body.

There was sudden laughter from the other room, and they broke apart, breathless. Morgan sighed in relief when she realized the kitchen door was still closed, and whatever they were laughing at, it wasn't her unexpected attack of lust.

"I'm sorry," Dean said, and she shook her head, putting her hand over his lips.

"Why? Don't be, it was quite nice..." Morgan thought about Diego's blunt question, and she felt her face grow hot again, half with embarrassment, half with desire. "Um... they should all be leaving soon, if you want to stay... for a while, I mean..." She closed her eyes in mortification as she heard herself babbling, and she forced herself to trail off.

She felt a hand on her cheek, and she looked up into Dean's eyes. They were hot -- intense, and dark with passion -- and the heat _she_ felt was suddenly not from embarrassment at all.

"I'd love to stay," he said, and his voice was soft and rough with desire. "But I don't think it's a good idea."

Morgan was confused -- his body language was saying something entirely different than his words. "Oh. Okay..."

"Tonight," he added. "It's not a good idea tonight. You have an early shift, don't you?" he asked, and she nodded reluctantly. "I have to be in our Escondido plant at six in the morning to help with inventory."

"On a Sunday?"

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "It was supposed to be today, and their manager had an emergency, plus the damn computer network was down -- as usual -- so they postponed it until tomorrow. That's why I got roped in; two of their salesmen can't do it tomorrow."

"Oh." She tried to hide her disappointment. There was relief as well -- she was still shaky and conflicted about the idea of sleeping with him -- but the relief was minimal. She just wished she knew if he was as disappointed as she was.

Looking up into his eyes again, Morgan knew he was. She realized with a jolt that it was getting easier for her to read him. She wondered if it was because she knew him better now or if it was because he was letting her in, letting her see more of him. In his eyes, she could see leftover lust, and the regret at not being able to stay, and the same affectionate look she saw every time he looked at her -- the same look he'd given her almost since they'd first met.

There was a crash in the kitchen, followed by gasps, swearing, and some laughter and applause. She turned her head towards the noise, listening carefully. When there was no further commotion, she turned back to him with a sigh. "I should get back in there. Are you going to join me? I don't blame you if you don't want to. Don't worry, I'm gonna kick Jeremy's ass."

Dean grinned a little, but he looked down. "I... uh, I think I'll just say my goodbyes and bow out of the evening -- unless you need my help cleaning up. I don't want them to think I'm like Adam -- "

"Never." She shook her head. "And don't worry, they've got it -- if they don't destroy my kitchen first. Shall we, then?"

When he nodded, she headed for the kitchen. Dean stayed very close behind her, and she realized he wasn't straying far from the doorway.

"Where's your broom?" Diego asked her, and Cassidy was crouched down, picking up large pieces of broken glass.

"What'd you break?" she asked, looking around. All of her mother's vases and glassware seemed to be intact, and she stifled her sigh of relief.

"Just a water glass," Jeremy said, handing the broom to Diego. He and Cassidy had been in Morgan's house enough times to know where everything was almost as well as Morgan herself did. Diego was still learning.

"One of the good ones?" she asked anxiously.

"Nope. Cheap. I think I bought it for you," Zach said, and she laughed.

"Good."

"It was really nice meeting everyone," Dean said from behind her, putting a hand on each of her shoulders. She thought maybe he did it to reassure himself, give himself some confidence, and she could feel him relax a little bit as she leaned back against his chest. "I have to get going," he added. "Early morning at work tomorrow."

They all said good night, and he glanced at her, a little unsure, as he prepared to turn to leave.

"I'm going to walk him to the door," she said. "I'll be right back."

"Take your time," Cassidy said with a knowing smile.

"Should I walk you home?" she asked him as they neared the door.

He grinned, taking her hands in his. "I'd just have to walk you back."

"Or you could stand at the door and watch me -- you do realize you can see my front door very easily from yours, right?"

"Yes," he said guardedly, his cover story blown. "I did realize that."

Morgan laughed. "Thought you might have."

He drew her close, holding her in his arms as he rested his cheek against her hair. "Thank you for inviting me. I had fun tonight."

"I'm glad." She shrugged in his embrace. "It's not the most exciting time -- "

His arms tightened around her just a fraction more. "It's always exciting, being with you," he whispered, and she closed her eyes as yearning flooded through her like liquid fire.

"Likewise," she murmured. She bit her lip, thinking it sounded stupid, but she changed her mind when she felt the tremor that went through his body.

"Your friends are nice," he said after a moment, and she laughed.

"You don't have to lie."

"I'm not! They are! A little... direct, but nice."

"They like you too."

He chuckled, ducking his head down to look into her eyes. "You sure about that?"

She smiled. "Yes. Despite their rudeness, I have it on good authority that they do. They're really not so bad once you get to know them."

"I hope I have the chance to."

Morgan looked up into his eyes. "I think you will."

Their goodnight kiss was slow and sweet and full of longing, kindling the flames between them rather than throwing gasoline on them.

Several long minutes later, he reluctantly pulled away from her. "I really should go. I'll see you soon?"

"Definitely."

She watched him cross the yard, and he stopped when he got to his own front porch. Though she couldn't see his face, she watched his shadow turn and look at her for quite a while. She stared back, and she smiled, even though she doubted he could see it. Only when he turned and went inside did she return to her friends.

"I cannot believe you," she hissed as she threw open the kitchen door. Her friends were either sitting at the breakfast bar or around the kitchen table, talking quietly, and they all jumped at her entrance.

"It wasn't all of us!" Zach protested. "Some of us know how to keep our mouth shut!"

"Yes, I know, and I'm sorry, but I -- you -- " She glared at Jeremy. "I should so kick your ass."

"It was a joke, Mor."

"I'm sure he knew we were talking about him -- you didn't have to throw it in his face! You saw how nervous he was -- "

"Yeah, and why? It's not like we're your -- " Mandy bit her lip, stopping herself just before the last forbidden word came out. There was a pause as everyone filled in the blank.

"Exactly," Morgan said shakily, acknowledging the awkward silence. "You guys are all I have, and he knows -- I've told him -- how important you are to me. He wanted to make a good impression, and -- "

"I think you're overreacting a little, Morgan," Cassidy said gently. "We've all razzed and teased prospective dates and partners -- we've done it since high school. Just ask Diego and Mandy."

They both nodded emphatically, but Morgan hardly saw them. She sighed heavily, dropping into an empty chair and scrubbing her face with both hands. "Yeah, maybe I am overreacting a little. But, as Zach so helpfully pointed out earlier, I haven't had anyone for you to haze for quite a while. And I like Dean. A lot. So please don't screw this up for me."

She realized she was pleading mostly with herself. Things were going well for her and Dean now, after a shaky start, and she was terrified that something was going to happen to plunge her back into the boring, lifeless existence she'd had four months ago.

Her friends realized it too, and they were quiet. It was a supportive silence, broken only by the hum of the dishwasher.

"Don't worry," Jeremy finally said, prettily batting his eyelashes at her. "We'll be on our best behavior."

Morgan laughed. "You guys? That's a scary thought."


	9. Chapter 9

 

"That was very good," Morgan said as she set her napkin back in her lap. "You keep feeding me like this, you're going to spoil me."

He smiled as he stood and took their plates to the sink. "Good. That's what I'm aiming for."

"You need help with those?" she asked as she gathered up their glasses.

"Nah." He took the glasses from her before she could go any further with them. "I'm just going to leave them for Adam anyway. Dishes are his job."

"Even when he doesn't get to eat the food?" Morgan leaned against the counter as he rinsed the dishes and stacked them by the dishwasher for Adam.

"Hey, I made enough. I already put the leftovers in the fridge for him."

She laughed. "You don't have to defend yourself. If I were responsible for dinner, he'd be making his own frozen dinners."

"C'mon, let's go sit down. The living room's more comfortable."

They curled up on the couch. She wondered if he would turn on the TV or the stereo, but he seemed content just to sit with her in silence. The only sound was the ticking of Adam's grandfather clock.

She chuckled after a moment. "That noise would drive me crazy. I purposely buy clocks that don't tick noisily."

"You learn to tune it out," he said. "But it was rough for a while."

"Jeremy bought me a clock once -- for my birthday one year, I think -- that absolutely drove me up the wall. It was a beautiful crystal clock, but it sounded like a metronome. I moved it from my dresser to my closet, and I finally had to put it in the guest room -- it's still there, I think. Later on, he admitted that he'd gone to a clock shop and bought the one with the loudest tick he could find. I almost threw it at him."

Dean laughed. "I don't know Jeremy very well, but that does seem to be something he would do."

"He loves practical jokes," she said, smiling as she remembered some of his more elaborate pranks. They were usually funny to everyone except the target.

"He doesn't like Adam very much, does he?"

"No," Morgan said with a laugh, emphatically shaking her head. "No, they really don't get along. Adam propositioned Jeremy the first time they met, Jeremy insulted him, and it all went downhill from there. I thought they were going to get physical -- and not in the way Adam had intended. For some reason, Adam still thinks Jeremy's just playing hard to get. You notice Jeremy sat as far away from Adam as he possibly could on Saturday night?"

He smirked, resting his cheek on her hair. "I noticed that, yes." There was another quiet moment, and he asked, "Would you like something to drink?"

"No. Thank you, but don't you dare move. This is nice. I don't think we've ever had a chance to just relax together."

"Both too busy, I guess," he murmured. He pulled her close to his side and pressed a kiss to her temple, and then to her cheek. She smiled and turned into his kiss, capturing his lips with hers.

He growled with satisfaction, shifting so that he leaned against the arm of the couch, with her laying halfway across his body. Her arm fell lightly against his stomach, and she kneaded the soft material of his shirt between her fingers, stroking the hard ab muscles under her hand.

Dean nipped at her, nibbling and lapping at her mouth as he wrapped her in his arms. He slid one hand up her arm to caress her neck and the spot under her ear that made her shiver. Pulling her hair down from the loose knot it was held in, he began to sift it through his fingers, cradling the back of her head and drawing her into his kiss.

They broke apart to breathe, and he peppered soft kisses over her face. She laughed with delight, playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

"You feel so good," he whispered breathlessly, and she nodded against his lips. Burying her face in his neck, she breathed in the scent of him and pressed against his body, molding herself to him.

Dean pressed a hand into the small of her back, arching up into her, and she felt his body stirring against her, responding to her closeness. Morgan felt joy and need -- and power -- sizzle through her like an electric current, and she kissed him again, harder, aching to feel more of him.

Brushing her chest against his, she gasped at the sensation, and Dean moaned, kissing her more fiercely. He shifted his legs, and her body moved further into him, slipping between the juncture of his thighs. He thrust a hard, muscled thigh between her legs, pressing her body tightly against his, and the ache she felt intensified tenfold.

Sparks danced through her, building with each trembling breath she took. His hand slid underneath her shirt, stroking the skin of her back, playing around the edges of her bra. A finger slipped underneath the fabric, gliding over the skin beneath.

Morgan broke the kiss, opening her eyes to study his face. His eyes drifted open, heavy lidded and dark with desire.

"Hmm?" he asked, his voice husky and hoarse with want. His fingers kept grazing the soft skin of her breast, sending need spiraling deeper and deeper within her.

"Nothing," she murmured, lowering her head. She pressed a kiss to his adam's apple, laughing as it jumped when he gasped. She fluttered kisses over his neck and his chest where the collar of his shirt parted. Hissing in pleasure, he rested his head against the back of the couch and bucked up into her body.

Swiftly, he rolled to his right, and she squeaked in surprise as it tipped her off of him. Long, and lean, and hot, his body pressed her into the back of the couch, and she wrapped her leg over his thigh so that their lower bodies melded seamlessly against each other.

Their mouths found each other again, mimicking the erotic dance below as their bodies strained against each other. Dean cupped her breast through her bra, and she hummed with satisfaction, arching into his hand. He swept his fingers over the firm peak, and she gasped.

"God, Morgan," he moaned, and he lowered his head to nuzzle at her. His hands slid down to her waist to inch her shirt up, and then the garage door growled and grumbled as it opened.

They flew apart, and Morgan caught Dean as he jumped backward and almost fell off the couch. They both quickly sat up to adjust their rumpled clothing.

Morgan noticed his hands were shaking as he re-buttoned his shirt and swept a hand through his hair. Her own body was trembling with unfulfilled need, but it was a wonderful feeling, one she hadn't felt in far too long.

"Okay, this is ridiculous," Dean muttered. "I need to get my own place. I'm _not_ going to feel like a damn teenager in my own living room."

She trailed a finger down his chest. "Oh, I don't know, I thought it was kind of fun." He growled, only half in annoyance, and she giggled, leaning back against his chest. "How come you haven't?" she asked, looking up at him. She lowered her voice, though Adam hadn't come in the house yet. "Moved out, I mean. I don't care _how_ little rent he's charging you, he's definitely not an ideal housemate. I _know_ him, remember?"

Dean chuckled, and she sighed with pleasure as she felt the vibrations of his laugh. "I haven't felt the need until now," he said. "We keep mostly to ourselves, and..." He lowered his head, nuzzling her just beneath the ear. "The neighborhood is nice. There's this one girl, she lives next door..." He nipped at her, and she laughed. "She's really cute," he whispered in her ear.

The door from the garage slammed. Adam trudged through the hallway towards his bedroom, and then he stopped and leaned backward, sticking his head into the living room.

"Do I need to turn the garden hose on you two?"

Dean sighed. "There's no need to be crude, Adam. We're just talking."

Morgan bit her lip to suppress her mortified laughter. _Oh, yes_ , she thought. _There was definitely some pretty heavy talking going on!_

"I was just about to walk her home," Dean said as he tried to surreptitiously glance at the hulking clock in the corner. "It's late."

 _Home... to my empty house... with no interfering housemates..._ she thought with a shiver. Dean felt it and rubbed his hand comfortingly up and down her arm.

"Night, Adam," she said, hoping her voice didn't tremble noticeably.

"Night, Morgan," he said, and she was sure she wasn't imagining the disapproval in his tone.

"There's food in the fridge if you're hungry," Dean called, but Adam made no reply as he disappeared down the hall.

"You working Friday?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "Nope. Day off -- they're switching me to nights and evenings for a while, starting Saturday, and they give you a day off in between."

"I have tickets to the Angels game Friday. You interested? Or do you hate baseball?"

Morgan shrugged. "I don't hate it -- my father loved it, and so did Jason. He played all throughout high school and college. We used to go to games -- his games, of course, and some professional games. It was fun, though I never got very much into it because of course my brother loved it, so it couldn't be any good."

Dean chuckled, but he held her tighter, hearing the wistful tone in her voice as she spoke of her family.

"You sure you don't want to take someone else? A real fan? Does Adam like baseball?"

Dean laughed. "Adam? You kidding? He hates sports. If I take him, all he'll do is whine."

"And how do you know I won't?" she asked with a coy smile.

"Well, if you do," he said, punctuating his words with quick kisses, "It'll be in a much prettier voice than his."

"Well, how could I refuse such an offer?" she asked, laughing. "I'd love to go."

"Great!" He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. "I'd say ‘I'll pick you up at 5:45,' but it's not like I'll be driving anywhere to get you."

"You walk me home, so why can't you pick me up?"

Dean grinned. "Very true. Okay, then, I'll pick you up at 5:45."

"Sounds good."

"Let's get you home."

They walked hand in hand to her door, and Morgan turned to him, taking a deep breath.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked, hoping her nervousness wasn't completely obvious to him.

Dean gazed into her eyes, studying her face. "I'd love to," he finally said, just as she was about to shake him to make him answer.

She smiled shakily. "Okay. Well, good."

He returned her smile. "It might be easier for us to go in if you open the door," he murmured when she made no further move.

Morgan was lost in his smile. "What? Oh!" Turning, she fumbled her key into the lock with trembling hands.

When she opened the door, the first thing she saw was paper. Everywhere.

"What the hell?"

Dean grasped her shoulder, stopping her from entering. "What is it?" he asked, his voice full of concern as he peered over her shoulder.

The paper was in tiny pieces. Tiny, shredded, _chewed_ looking pieces. Morgan narrowed her eyes as the realization hit.

"Chaos!"

There was a yelp and the sound of claws scrabbling fast over tile in the opposite direction.

"What happened?" he asked her. When she took a glance at him, his eyes were wide as he surveyed the damage. "Wow."

Morgan sighed. "I left him in the house during dinner. I didn't think there'd be a problem. I wasn't really planning to be gone for a long time, or I wouldn't have done it. I thought he'd be okay for a little while. Looks like I was gone a little too long and he got into the newspaper -- oh, dammit, and the mail."

Dean looked contrite. "I'm sorry. I kept you -- "

She turned her back on the mess, putting a hand on his chest and looking him in the eye. "Don't be sorry. The lateness of the hour was the last thing on my mind. I was..." She looked down, feeling her face flush. "I was having a wonderful time."

He tipped her chin up, giving her a quick, reassuring kiss. "Good. There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Morgan. I was, too. Having a wonderful time, I mean."

She sighed again, looking over her shoulder. "I really would love for you to come in, Dean, and I mean that sincerely. But I have to clean this mess up. I'm sort of afraid to see what else he's done."

"I understand," Dean said with a nod. "There'll be other nights."

 _God, I hope so_ , Morgan thought, frustrated. _And soon, or I'm going to explode!_

"Do you need any help?" he asked, staring again at the mess.

"No," Morgan said, shaking her head. "No, I'll manage. I just have to figure out what bills he destroyed."

"You mean, ‘The dog ate my statement' isn't an acceptable excuse for late payment?" His eyes were sparkling with laughter, and she grinned weakly.

"I suppose I could try it."

"How could they refuse you?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her once more and giving her a quick hug. "You sure you don't need my help?" he asked as he stepped back to arm's length.

"No, but thank you." She moved closer again and gave him a kiss, intending for it to be quick, but Dean caught her and held her, deepening it before she could move away.

It was a kiss full of the promise of things to come. His tongue plunged into her mouth, claiming her as it mated and played with hers. She pulled away smiling and breathless.

"Good night," he murmured. "Don't kill him, okay?"

"I won't," she laughed. "Good night."

When the door closed behind him, she stalked off to find the puppy.

"Chaos!" she snapped. "When I find you, I'm gonna kill you!"

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Chaos sat in the armchair by her bed on Friday afternoon, watching her with his head cocked as she tried to figure out what to wear. He sniffed at her teddy bear, and she snapped her fingers.

"You touch him, and you sleep outside for a _month_ ," she warned.

He laid his head back down on his paws and watched her, yipping every time she tossed another shirt on her bed.

"I don't _have_ anything red!" she grumbled.

Dean had called her from his office at lunchtime to confirm their date for the game. He'd sounded frazzled.

"God, I can't wait to see you," he'd murmured. "This place is driving me nuts."

"Dean!" she'd heard someone shout in the background. "Line one! And then line four!"

He'd sighed. "I gotta go. I'll see you tonight. Oh! Wear something red, if you have it, okay?"

"What? Red?"

"Yes, red! Bye!"

So now, here she was, tearing apart her closet. She favored black and blue and green. The occasional white or grey t-shirt. No red.

"Ha!" she exclaimed as she dug deeper and found a red and white and black checkered shirt. "This will have to do."

Morgan froze as an idea occurred to her. Slowly, and with trepidation, she walked out of the room and down the hall. Chaos jumped off the chair and trotted at her heels. She stopped in front of the closed door of the room that had been her brother's.

Though he hadn't been living at home for several years at the time of his death, their parents hadn't done anything with Jason's room, so it had remained much as it had always looked. After their deaths, when she'd finally been able to do it without collapsing from grief, she'd boxed up some of her parents' belongings and placed them in Jason's room. After that, the door had always stayed closed, and she only went in there occasionally to dust.

Taking a deep breath, Morgan opened the door. She closed her eyes as a voice drifted to her from the past. _Get out of my room, squirt!_

She took a few steps in and stopped, just gazing around. The object she was looking for was draped over a bedpost. Morgan forced herself to take a few more steps in, but she whirled around when Chaos began to follow her.

"No! Stay out of here!" she said sternly, and the dog cowered and sat in the doorway. She grabbed the ball cap and hurried from the room, shutting the door forcefully behind her.

"What do you think, boy?" she asked, but the dog cringed from her voice. "Aww," she said, reaching down to scoop him up. "Sorry, boy, didn't mean to snap. I still love you. But look! You think he'll be surprised if I wear it?"

She showed the dog the cap, and he sniffed curiously at it. Navy blue with a red brim, haloed A on the front. It was well worn, well loved, and well taken care of. She wondered if Jason would mind her wearing it.

"Think he'd be mad?" she asked Chaos, trying to ignore how her voice was shaking. "I think he'd like Dean, don't you? I hope so, anyway." Chaos licked her face, and she laughed. "Guess you agree, then."

She settled the cap on her head. It was a fitted cap, sized to her brother's head and therefore a little big, but it was perfect. "Perfect," she murmured, cuddling Chaos close to her chest.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

"Hey," Dean said as she opened the door, and then he broke into a huge smile. "Wow, that's a great cap! Classic! Where'd you get it?"

"It was Jason's. He wore it all the time. I don't know if... I mean... I thought it would be..." She shrugged and trailed off.

His smile changed, becoming softer, gentler. "It looks great on you," he said, pulling her closer and giving her a quick kiss. When he let her go, she backed up and did a quick pirouette, arms out at her sides.

"This okay?" she asked. "It's all I had that has red in it."

"It's perfect."

Morgan sighed in relief. "Good. You look great, by the way."

Dean was wearing a deep red polo shirt with dark jeans, a red ball cap turned backward on his head. He grinned. "Thanks. Ready?"

"Yep."

"You put the monster out?" he asked, and she laughed.

"Yep. My mail is safe."

"Then let's go!"

When he turned, taking her hand in his, she noticed that the A on his cap was a little more modern, a little more stylized than hers. They crossed to his driveway, and he headed for his truck.

"No bike?" she asked in disappointment.

His face was apologetic as he shook his head. "Not tonight -- I feel safer going to the stadium in a bigger vehicle; there's too much traffic before and after the game, and people act crazy in the parking lots. We'll go for a ride soon, I promise."

"The company truck, though?"

"I won't tell if you won't tell."

She laughed. "We can take my car if it'll keep you from getting into trouble."

"Nah. Save your gas -- I'm allowed to use it for moderate personal use."

When they were in his truck, she asked, "So who are they playing, anyway? I didn't even ask."

"Texas," he answered. "First of a three game series."

Morgan nodded, lapsing back into silence.

"So," he said after a moment. "You said your brother played?" When she glanced at him, he looked uncomfortable. "I mean... if you don't want to talk about it... about him... I -- "

"No," she interrupted him. "It's okay. Yeah, Jason played first base, did a little pitching. He was pretty good too. Or at least, that's what his coaches said. Endlessly, afterward. ‘He had such potential, it's such a shame.' Like the worst thing about it was that they lost a great player. Never mind the fact that he was -- gone."

She stared out the window at the scenery blurring by. After a moment, Dean's hand settled on her thigh, rubbing it gently. She sighed.

"I'm so sorry, Morgan," he murmured, and when she turned to look at him, he was glancing back and forth between her and the road.

"No, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to get all bitter on you. I miss him."

"I -- I didn't mean to stir up memories with this."

She smiled reassuringly. "It's all right, really. They're memories of Jase. Good memories, he really did love this game, and this team. And we'll make new ones. And those will be good too."

Dean grinned. "Sounds like a plan."

"Didn't you say you played football and wrestled?" she asked. When he nodded, she added, "But you're a baseball fan?"

He shrugged. "I always wanted to play baseball, but I can't hit a curveball to save my life. My career ended in Little League. I can hit people though, and take them down, so that's what I did."

She chuckled. "Well, that's good to know. If I ever need a bodyguard, I'll call you."

"You better."

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

The stadium was filling up quickly when they arrived, and he led her to their seats, about six rows up right behind first base. She smiled at the coincidence, thinking how Jason would have loved these seats.

"These are great seats!" she told Dean. "We used to sit up... right about up there," she told him, pointing at the far reaches of the upper deck.

He laughed. "They're the company's. They give them to us to woo customers with, and nobody was using them this weekend, so I snagged a pair."

"'Big Bang Friday'," she read on the jumbotron, and then the graphic caught her eye. She turned to him excitedly. "Fireworks?"

He laughed. "I had tickets to tomorrow's game, but I traded with one of the other salesmen -- I knew you'd like tonight's better."

"You're the best!" she exclaimed, grabbing him by his collar and pulling him close to plant a quick kiss on him.

Dean laughed, his cheeks turning a faint pink at her praise. "I try."

The game started, and though Morgan tried to concentrate on the action on the field, she found herself captivated by Dean. She tried not to stare at him, but she was fascinated by the shifting moods and expressions she saw on his face. He was happy when the team was doing well, and upset when they made a mistake, and as he followed the game, she followed him.

She was watching him with a smile on her face after one of the Angels -- the cute second baseman, she noted absently -- hit a two run home run. He glanced over at her.

"You're not watching," he said.

"I am too," she said with a smile, recalling the similar conversation they'd had during the fireworks at the park. "It's very interesting."

He laughed. "You having a good time?"

"I'm having a great time."

"Want something to drink? I think I'm gonna go get a beer."

"Surprise me."

He grinned wickedly. "That could be dangerous."

Morgan rolled her eyes. "I think I'm safe with you. And if something happens, I know where you live. My friends will come and find you, and between all of them, I'm sure they can manage to kick your ass."

He laughed. "I don't doubt it. I'll be right back."

While he was gone, she pondered their last exchange. Months before, she would have been worried and confused by his words, wondering at his meaning and his motives. But now, she just smiled. He was only teasing, and she wasn't worried about him trying to get into her pants. _If that's all he wanted_ , she thought, _He would have either tried harder or given up long ago_.

Having eaten dinner with her for months now, he knew she wasn't a big beer drinker. When he came back, he handed her what looked to her like cranberry juice and vodka.

She glanced from it to his smiling face. "Where'd you get this?"

"I had to travel far and wide to find it..." he said dramatically, taking a sip of his beer.

Morgan laughed. "Dope. Where'd you get it?"

"There's a little bar next to the beer vendor. Makes it handy for more... discriminating tastes."

"Finicky drinkers, you mean," she said and Dean just shrugged, giving her a wry smile.

"You said it, not me."

She laughed. "Thanks," she said, raising her glass to him before taking a sip. "Mmm... it's perfect."

"You're welcome. Anything for my girl."

A thrill went through her at his words, and she smiled giddily as she took another sip of her drink.

By the time the game ended -- happily, in an Angels victory, though it had been a close game the whole way through -- she'd had three drinks and she felt pleasantly buzzed. Dean had stopped after two, because he was driving. The game had ended, but nobody was leaving. The field lights dimmed, and she beamed in anticipation.

It was a wonderful show, and she watched with a smile on her face. It wasn't _quite_ as amazing as the show at the park, but it was still beautiful. She oohed and aahed and cheered just as much as the little boy next to her, sticking her tongue out at Dean when he laughed good-naturedly at her enthusiasm.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

"Thanks for inviting me," she told him in the car as they neared their neighborhood.

Dean glanced over at her and smiled before turning back to the road. "You're very welcome. I'm glad you had a good time."

"I had a wonderful time."

Her hand lay on the seat between them, and he covered it with his, squeezing it gently. "I'm glad," he repeated. "I was hoping you would."

When they got to Dean's house, he pulled into the driveway, but she stopped him as he reached for the remote to open the garage.

"Don't wake him," she murmured, knowing how loud their garage door was. "We'll go next door, and you can leave the truck in the driveway for now."

Dean studied her appraisingly, a predatory look in his dark eyes. Inwardly, she shivered, but she gave him what she hoped was a confident smile. Without another word, she got out of the truck, her smile growing when she heard Dean scrambling to follow her.

When she stopped on the porch to search for her keys, he stepped up very close behind her, and his nearness almost made her drop her purse. Trying to hide how flustered she was, she unlocked the door and led him into the house.

"Would you like some coffee?" she asked as she tossed her coat on the couch.

Dean caught her wrist, tugging her to him. "No," he murmured huskily. "I don't want coffee."

When he kissed her, it was gentle, patient, but determined. She melted into his body, and he splayed one hand across the small of her back, holding her steady as he rocked against her.

Breaking the kiss, he removed her brother's cap from her head, tossing it gently onto the couch before tangling his fingers in her hair. She reached up to grab his cap off his head, and she couldn't stifle her giggle.

His eyes popped open. "That's not a good sound."

"Sorry," she laughed. "Hat head."

He tried to smooth his hair down, and she caught his hand. "Don't," she murmured. "I like it." She slid her hands into his hair, stretching up to capture his lips with hers.

"Wait," she murmured after a long moment, pulling away. "Not here... I'm not feeling like a teenager tonight," she said, and he chuckled, his voice hoarse with desire.

Taking him by the hand, she turned, but he moved in close to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He ground his hips against her body, nipping at her neck.

"Dean..." she moaned, her breath catching in her throat. "Oh..."

"God, Morgan," he whispered, as he slid his hand beneath her shirt to cup her breast. He swept his thumb along the peak, groaning low in his throat as it pebbled beneath his fingertip. "So beautiful..."

She tried to pull away. "No."

"Yes," he said vehemently, holding her tighter. "Beautiful." He thrust his hips against her, and liquid want pooled deep within her as she felt the heat and the hardness of him.

"Come on," she murmured. "Not that the hallway wouldn't be nice..."

She led him to her bedroom, and she was fuzzily thankful that she'd cleaned up after trying to find something to wear before the game.

They were in her bedroom, and he was looking at her hungrily, eyes half-lidded and dark with lust. Morgan was suddenly overtaken by a wave of extreme anxiety. She turned halfway away from him, crossing her arms nervously over her chest.

"Morgan?"

Her cheeks were burning as she examined the pattern of her bedspread. "I..."

Dean grasped her shoulder and gently turned her back into his embrace. "Shh..." he said, kissing her temple, and then her cheek. "Just let go," he murmured as he rubbed her back. "Let go..."

He kissed her again, and she relaxed into his arms. Slipping her shirt over her shoulders, he tossed it aside, skimming his hands across her stomach. He sat on the edge of her bed and pulled her closer, until she stood between his legs, her hands draped loosely around his neck. Hands cradling her hips, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss between her breasts before trailing his lips down her stomach.

Morgan climbed onto the bed, straddling him, pressing her body against him, and he hissed in pleasure. She tugged his shirt from the waistband of his jeans, pulling it over his head.

His chest was smooth, and hard, and she glided her fingertips over it, down his belly, watching as the muscles flexed and jumped beneath her touch. Dean arched his back, bucking up into her body, and she leaned forward, urging him further back onto the bed.

Her kisses were tentative, but she grew more confident as the sparks ignited, and soon she forgot her nervousness as they lost themselves in each other.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Morgan hummed with pleasure as she awoke, curled on her side like normal, and then she froze as she realized she wasn't alone in her bed -- definitely not normal. There was a heavy arm thrown over her waist, fingertips curled into a loose fist, resting on her stomach. A still, sleeping presence behind her, and soft, steady breaths in her ear.

She craned her head back and caught a glimpse of Dean sleeping peacefully behind her, his face serene, his hair invitingly tousled.

Memories of the night before came back to her with a rush of remembered pleasure, and she closed her eyes, smiling happily. She needed to stretch, but she didn't want to move, didn't want to wake Dean.

Muscles she'd nearly forgotten about were aching, but it was a good, full ache, a satisfied ache, and she lay sated in his arms.

Watching the dust motes dance in a shaft of sunlight, she stayed motionless as she thought about the way Dean had made love to her. He'd been careful, gentle -- almost too gentle, and that had told her that he was nervous too.

 _At least the first time_ , she thought with a wicked grin, and she felt her face flush as she remembered the second time. The hard, fast coupling in the middle of the night that had left them sweaty, breathless, and exhausted, tangled in the sheets. _God, I can't believe that was me!_

Dean muttered something unintelligible in his sleep and drew her closer, his arm tightening over her, and she moved willingly into his body.

She'd promised herself that she wouldn't compare him to Rob anymore, but she couldn't help but make one more. Rob had never cuddled, not even in his sleep. All throughout their relationship, whenever they had slept together, he'd slept on his side with his back to her. They'd woken up more than one morning with him plastered to the wall because she'd unconsciously moved towards him and he'd unconsciously moved away from her.

 _This is nice_ , she thought as she brought her hand up to rest on Dean's arm where it lay over her. _More than nice. I could really get used to this_.

She was just drifting off again when she felt him stirring behind her, his body moving gently against her as he began to wake up.

He froze momentarily, just as she had, but when he relaxed, he began to gently disentangle himself from her, obviously trying not to wake her. She turned in his arms, and he jumped in surprise.

"You're awake," he said, his eyes wide and still glassy with sleep.

"Mmm," she agreed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Morning. Did you sleep well?"

He stared at her, and she was concerned when she saw the half-confused, half-panicked look in his eyes. Just for a moment, it softened as she smiled nervously at him, and then it was back. He tried to pull away from her again, and she caught his arm.

"Dean..."

"Um, yeah. Slept well." His gaze darted around the room, never settling on anything and completely avoiding her.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." He pulled his arm away from her, and she either had to let go or get dragged across the bed.

"Then why are you so anxious to go? Why won't you look at me?"

"Nothing's wrong, Morgan." He looked into her eyes, but only for a moment, and that strange, panicked look was gone. His face was as unreadable to her as it had been when she'd first met him. "I just remembered I'm supposed to be in Oceanside by noon, and I think I'm going to be late."

He was already shrugging into his jeans and buttoning them, and she watched, speechless, as he pulled his shirt over his head and ran a hand through his hair.

"Dean, if something's wrong, let's talk about it. Don't run, please."

"I'm not running." He bit his lower lip, his expression conflicted as he obviously battled with himself about something, and then he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, running his hand through her hair.

"Don't go, not right now," Morgan pleaded, clutching the sheets to her body.

Dean glanced at the clock. "I'm gonna be late. I have to go. I'll... I'll talk to you soon, I promise."

She stared at the doorway long after he was gone, too stunned to cry.


	10. Chapter 10

 

Morgan knocked on Dean's front door later that afternoon, about an hour before she had to leave for work. His truck was still in the driveway where they'd left it the night before, and she wasn't sure whether that pleased her or angered her. She wanted to talk to him, but she didn't know if she could face him. Looking down at the red baseball cap she held in her hands, she felt like bawling. When there was no answer, she knocked again.

Adam answered it, the phone to his ear. He took one look at her, said into the phone, "I'll talk to you later," and hung up. "Morgan? Is something wrong? You look terrible."

She couldn't even bother to be irritated by his tactlessness. "Is Dean home?"

Adam shook his head. "Uh uh. He took off on that motorcycle of his, hours ago -- He was slamming around the house early this morning, making all kinds of noise. Woke me up -- so rude -- and when I asked him what was wrong, he snapped at me! He looked like hell, and I think he was out all night and -- oh!"

Realization flared in his eyes. "Oh. And now you're here. Oh..."

His ruthless gaze raked over her, and she watched as the merciless glee in his eyes morphed into deep concern. She didn't buy a second of it. "Oh, Morgan," he said, tsking sympathetically. "Damn, hon, I tried to warn you -- "

"Save the bullshit, Adam, I don't care right now, okay?" she snapped, and his eyes widened in shock and then narrowed in indignation. Morgan sighed. "Look, can you please just -- if you see him, can you just tell him I need to talk to him? And give him this."

She shoved the cap into his hands and turned away, trudging towards her car.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

"Well, work sucked again today," she told Chaos Sunday night as she curled on the couch, cuddling him close to her. The dog gazed at her for a moment and then laid his head on her arm. "Got a stern talking to for not being cheery enough. Excuse me if don't feel like jumping for joy 24/7 just for the privilege of working at the Happiest Place on Earth."

The phone rang, and her gaze darted to it where it sat on the table beside her. One glance at the caller ID and she sighed.

"Cass again," she said, and she felt bad for not answering, but she couldn't bring herself to pick it up. She couldn't bear to tell her friends, to have them console her and help her dissect everything, to take every part of it and rip it to shreds. She couldn't bear for them to come to the conclusion she'd already come to -- she'd made a big mistake.

"I need to talk to Dean first," she murmured to Chaos, and he licked her arm, evidently agreeing.

 _That's gonna be difficult if he keeps hiding_. She didn't even know where he was. As far as she could tell, he still hadn't come home from wherever he'd gone Saturday morning. She wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or worried. Annoyed and distraught were certainly there, but worried was gaining a foothold.

The phone rang again, startling her. Cass wouldn't be calling again so soon, she realized as she grabbed for the phone. The number was unfamiliar, and she felt her heart lurch. _Maybe he was telling the truth! Maybe he just had to go home for something and there was an emergency, and he's calling as soon as he could, and -- ___

"Hello?" she said, trying to force her voice to stop trembling.

"Hello? Morgan?"

"Rob?" Her heart sank even lower than it had been before the phone rang.

 _What do you mean, ‘Morgan?'_ she thought with a sigh. _You know I'm the only one who lives here. And I thought this weekend couldn't get any worse._

"Hi, I hope it's not too late, and that you don't mind me calling. I just thought... well, I hadn't heard from you in a while, and I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay."

 _Just peachy._ "Oh... well, you could have emailed," she said, cringing as she realized how rude it sounded.

There was a pause. "I did. Several times, and you haven't responded. I was getting a little worried, frankly."

"Oh." Morgan bit her lip. "I've been pretty busy." _With Dean. But I'm not now. Because he's pulled The Amazing Dean Russo Vanishing Act. Again._

"I gathered that."

There was another awkward silence, and she shifted uneasily on the couch. Chaos growled as she dumped him unceremoniously from her lap. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.

"Well, I'm okay, thanks for calling -- is that the only reason you called?" She realized she hadn't asked him how he was doing, and she couldn't bring herself to care about her rudeness.

"Well, no, actually. I'm going to be out in that area tomorrow afternoon, and I was just wondering if you'd like to get together. For dinner, maybe. Just to catch up."

She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. _What the hell? Who are you and what have you done with Rob?_ "Um..."

"If you're not busy, I mean..."

If he'd called three days ago, she would have brushed him off, said she was busy, working, washing her hair, anything. She might have even told him she was seeing someone. But now...

She bit her lip. _I'm avoiding my friends, the job I normally love now majorly sucks, and the only other man I've ever slept with besides you literally ran out on me. The second time. My life's great, thanks for asking!_ Shrugging listlessly, she said, "Well, I don't go to dinner -- to restaurants."

There was a pause, and she was sure he was remembering the panic attacks she'd had during the months after the accident. After a moment, he said, "Oh. Oh, yes, of course, I'd forgotten. Well, coffee then? I know a great little place."

Morgan stared at the phone again. _You don't drink coffee!_ "Well... okay, then. That sounds fine."

"Well, great. I'll, uh, I'll pick you up at seven, then?"

 _I'll pick you up at 5:45_ , she heard in her head, and she closed her eyes against the sting of tears. "Can we make it eight?"

"Sure. Okay, then. Well, I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Bye."

After he hung up, she stared at the phone. _Besides, maybe Dean will see his car_ , a tiny part of her said, and she frowned. "No." _This is not high school, I don't want to make him jealous, I just want to know what the hell is going on!_

"Great. Date for coffee with the ex who doesn't drink it." Morgan sighed. "What the hell am I supposed to wear?"

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

By Monday night, she was definitely worried. Dean's truck hadn't moved an inch. She'd called Adam, and though he'd been snippy with her, he'd told her that he hadn't heard from Dean. Dean's personal cell phone went straight to voice mail, and she hadn't felt comfortable calling his company phone, even though he'd given her the number. She tried to tell herself that he was fine and obviously avoiding her and she shouldn't waste anymore time worrying about him. It didn't help.

Work had been a little better today than the previous two days -- she was still miserable, but she'd managed to keep a smile on her face whenever she was onstage. People were still avoiding her in the break room, since she made less of an effort to hide her black mood while she was in there.

Morgan was pacing in front of the window, watching Dean's driveway, when Rob's car pulled up. At least, she assumed it was Rob's car. It was sleek and black and very expensive looking.

She almost stumbled as a horrible thought struck her.

"Oh God," she murmured. "What if he's going to tell me he's getting married or something?"

The urge to run and hide under her bed was almost overwhelming. With everything that was going on, she wasn't sure she could handle anything else.

"Relax," she told herself sternly. "He's not coming to tell you anything like that. This isn't _General Hospital_ for God's sake."

Morgan watched him get out of his car, straightening his shirt and brushing down his pants. He was tall, with the dark, burnished copper hair that had first drawn her attention to him. If she closed her eyes and thought about it, she could imagine his striking green eyes. She studied him and decided he was handsome enough -- though he'd gained some weight, it had only made him fill out, given him the broad shoulders of the football player he'd never been.

Her mind was filled with visions of dark, unruly hair and melted chocolate eyes, and she pursed her lips, trying to push the images away. When it moved on to fantasies of long, lean limbs and a beautifully toned torso, she sighed regretfully and shook herself out of it. Just in time, as the doorbell chimed.

She pulled the door open and mustered up a smile. "Hello."

"Morgan," he said, his face breaking into a smile as he looked her up and down. "You look fantastic."

"Thanks," she said, grabbing her coat off the hook by the door. "You look good too."

"Shall we?" He turned and ushered her out the door, and she was extremely glad he didn't try to take her arm or her hand.

"Thanks," she said again as he opened the car door for her. "New car?" she asked as he settled behind the wheel. She glanced around at the polished wood trim and ran a finger over the plush leather interior.

"I've had it for several months," he said with a shrug. "It's comfortable."

"Finally got one, huh?" she said with a knowing nod, completely debunking his nonchalance. It was the kind of car he'd wanted since high school. He looked over at her, a sly smirk on his face.

"I'd forgotten you were there when I first looked at them."

"Mmm," she said, but she thought, _I hadn't_. "So, how's work?"

He slipped the car into drive as he shrugged again, in a way that was so familiar it made her ache, not with love or desire, but with nostalgia. Things had been so simple once.

"...So I told him that I needed a break, needed to cut back, and he said he understood. So I'm working sixty, which is not great, but it's better than eighty."

"Hmm? Oh. Oh, well that's good." She realized she'd been tuning him out the entire time as her thoughts drifted, and she flushed with embarrassment.

"You okay, Morgan? You seem a bit distant."

"No, I'm fine. I'm sorry. I'm here."

"So, good... Well, you mentioned in an email that you're not working for Carl anymore, but I don't believe you told me what you're doing now?"

She laughed as she peered at the window. "This is your great little place? God, I haven't been here for... years."

The nostalgia returned, stronger than ever, and Rob laughed, the deep chuckle she'd once loved so much. "I thought you might like it."

"It" was the tiny, independent coffeehouse around the corner from campus. She and her friends had gathered there night after night when she'd still been in school, and Rob had joined them about half the time, reluctant to be in a crowd and away from his studies.

"I can't believe it's still here," she said with a smile. "That it hasn't been replaced by a Starbucks."

"Come on, let's go in," he said. He came around the car to open her door, and this time, he offered her his hand to help her out of the car. Not wanting to be rude, she took it, a bit hesitantly. She couldn't believe he'd remembered the little place; it was like stepping into the past.

Inside it was quiet and cozy -- the college crowd didn't invade much before nine. They ordered, and she wasn't surprised to find herself paying for her own coffee.

"House blend," Rob said, and she glanced at him. "What?" he said as he caught her looking.

"Didn't think you drank coffee," she replied with a shrug, taking a sip of her own latté and humming in appreciation.

"Have to every now and then, just to keep awake. And since dinner was out of the question..."

He said it casually, but after having spent years with him, she couldn't fail to hear the passive-aggressive accusation his voice held. She refused to feel guilty about her fears, especially for Rob's sake.

"Come on," she said, "Let's find a table."

After they were settled at a corner table, cradling the warm mugs in their hands, he asked her again what she was doing with her life these days.

She thought of her job, and how much she normally loved it, thought of the smiling kids and the awe on their faces. _True, it sucks right now, but that's really all Dean's fault._

"I'm working at Disneyland, actually," she told Rob with a smile.

He stared at her, his coffee cup halfway to his lips. "What?"

"I'm working in the park. At Space Mountain most of the time, but I also do some Guest Control shifts at Fantasmic!, or the parade."

He set his coffee back on the table. "What, you mean... like, a temporary job?"

Morgan shrugged, trying to hide her wry smile. _I'm so not surprised you don't get it_ , she thought. "Well, I suppose it could be temporary, if I was planning on getting another job any time soon. But I'm happy with it, so I see no need to move on."

He shook his head in confusion. "But that's for kids, Morgan. You have a college education."

"I never graduated, Rob; you know that."

"So go back and get your degree, then, while you work there. At least you'd be doing something useful that way!"

"I will go back, but I see no need to right now," she said calmly, hiding her disbelief at the fact that she was defending herself and her life choices to Rob once more. She'd thought she was done with that years ago.

"But you could be doing so much more!"

"Yes, I probably could, and maybe what I was doing with Carl was more _useful_ and socially rewarding, but I don't know, I think trying to make people happy is pretty damn rewarding. And, I'm happy."

"How can you be happy? There's no room for advancement there!"

She laughed bitterly. "That isn't what makes me happy, Rob. And anyway, how do you know there isn't? You don't, you just assume that because it's something you wouldn't do that it's not worthwhile. You've always done that."

Rob stared at her, a look of wounded anger on his face. "How have I always done that?"

"You -- " Morgan sighed. "You know what? Never mind. I shouldn't have brought it up."

When he continued gaping at her, she sighed again. "Look, let's move on, okay? We can try for a pleasant evening without rehashing old arguments."

After a moment, he nodded grudgingly. "Okay... Well... um, how's Cassidy?"

She smiled. "She's doing really well, actually. She's married now -- you remember Diego?"

"Mmm," he said noncommittally, and she wasn't surprised at his reaction. The two men had never gotten along.

"They're married, they have three dogs -- they just bought a house, actually, and I think Diego's probably going to buy himself a new car soon."

"Really? Good for them, sounds like they're doing well."

 _Yes, those material acquisitions are sure adding up_ , she thought cynically. She was happy that her friends were doing well, because they were _happy_ , not because their finances were sound. Rob, she knew, would not feel the same way. "And Zach and Mandy are -- finally -- engaged."

"That's... nice," he said, and she smiled, wondering if he remembered that Zach and Mandy had started seeing each other the same week she and Rob had.

"Yeah, they're happy, it's good to see. And Jeremy's doing well -- he just made management, so he's _always_ working -- a lot like you, actually, in that respect."

Rob said nothing, simply taking a sip of his coffee, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing. She knew the thought of any similarity between him and Jeremy probably made him uncomfortable as hell.

The silence stretched on, and she finished her latté. She pointed at her mug. "I'm gonna go get another one, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

"You want something?"

He shook his head, stirring his coffee. "No, thanks, I'm fine."

When she got back to the table, he asked her about several of her other friends, and the conversation remained friendly enough, but she was bored out of her mind. The small talk kept her from thinking too much about Dean, though, and for that she was grateful. She noticed that Rob spoke very little about his friends and family, but a lot about his apartment and his car and his job -- it was like his emails all over again.

After she finished her second latté, Morgan surreptitiously glanced at her watch.

"I should probably get home," she told him, and she thought he looked disappointed.

"Oh, wow, you're right -- it's late," he said, looking at his own watch. "I should get going. Early day tomorrow."

"Do you ever have a late day?" she laughed.

"Not lately."

The ride home went quietly, and Morgan spent it staring out the car window. A motorcycle came roaring by her side of the car, and she jumped. She stared after it as the low level anxiety she'd been battling all night came soaring back. She sighed.

"You okay?" Rob asked quietly, glancing over at her.

"Yeah, I'm okay. There's just... a lot going on right now."

"Anything I can help with?"

She studied his profile as he drove, finally shaking her head. "I doubt it."

"You let me know if you ever need anything, okay?" Rob asked, glancing at her again.

She stared at him in shock, wondering once more if he'd been replaced by an alien.

Rob pulled up in front of her house and dropped the car into park. He made no further move, and he didn't say anything, and after a moment, Morgan looked over at him to find him watching her closely.

"Well, that was... nice. Thank you for asking me."

"You're welcome," he said, and his smile was perfect -- it was charming, winning, and did completely nothing for her.

When she reached to gather her coat and purse, he placed a hand over hers, stroking it gently. Startled, she glanced at him.

"You know, it's not _that_ late," he said quietly.

"What?"

"Maybe I could come in for a while... for coffee or something."

"We just _had_ coffee!" she exclaimed.

"Well," he laughed as his hand slid further up her arm. "It doesn't _have_ to be coffee..."

Morgan shoved his hand away from her. "I don't believe you!"

"What?"

"Look, if all you wanted to do was get into my pants, you could have told me that on the phone. I would have told you there was no chance in hell and saved us _both_ from a couple hours of yawn-inducing conversation!"

"Morgan -- "

"What, you just assumed that you'd call and I'd come running back and just _fall_ into your bed?"

"It's not like that -- I just thought we could get reacquainted."

"We just spent two hours getting reacquainted, and it was plenty of time to remind me why this didn't work the first time. You don't understand my mindset, my wishes and dreams, you don't understand _me_! You're not what I want, Rob -- you're not _who_ I want, and I've got news for you -- the sex wasn't all that great the first time -- why the _hell_ would I come back for more?"

"Jesus, Morgan, you don't have to get vicious!"

"Stay away from me," she warned. "Don't call me, don't email me -- just leave me the hell alone!"

She couldn't get the car door open because her hands were shaking so badly. Finally, she shoved it open, ignoring his startled yelp of indignation when the bottom of the door scraped against the curb. Slamming the car door shut, she made it up the walk and into the house before the tears began to fall.

Morgan stormed through the foyer and into the living room, dropping her keys and purse on the table before throwing her coat onto the couch. She kicked her shoes off and slumped onto the loveseat, burying her face in her hands.

The tears she cried were mostly in anger. Anger at Rob, and at Dean, the men who thought she was good enough to spend time with -- to sleep with -- but not good enough to cuddle, to keep, to love.

The anger boiled up inside her, and she was frustrated with her tears, frustrated that she couldn't seem to find any other outlet for her emotions than crying.

"I'm fucking sick of crying!" she shouted. "Bastards!"

She rested her head on the back of the loveseat, staring at the ceiling and occasionally swiping angrily at her cheeks until the tears began to taper off.

The phone rang, and she stared listlessly at it, letting it go to voice mail. It rang again, and she scowled at it.

"Go away," she grumbled.

When it rang a third time, she sighed in frustration and grabbed it. "What?"

"Morgan? Are you okay?"

Morgan sighed. "Hey, Cass."

"Don't ‘hey, Cass' me, I've been trying to get a hold of you since Saturday morning! You always return my calls! Where the hell have you been?"

"I've been busy, okay? I didn't realize I had to check in with you every morning!"

There was silence on the line for nearly thirty seconds. "Morgan, what happened? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Cassidy... it's been a rough weekend."

"Do you need me to come over there?" Cassidy's voice was full of concern, and Morgan felt awful for snapping at her.

"No! No, I'm fine... it's just..." she laughed bitterly. "I just had coffee with Rob."

"You went out for coffee? With that asshole?"

Morgan smiled. "Yeah, he called me yesterday. We spent two hours talking about nothing and then when he brought me home, he tried to invite himself into my bed."

There was another moment of silence. "What?" Cassidy asked, obviously astonished. " _Rob_? Rob Monroe?"

Morgan's laugh was watery. "Yeah. Pretty much told him to go to hell."

"Okay, so that couldn't have been pleasant, but I don't think that's the whole problem. What's going on, Morgan? Why haven't you returned my calls? Or Jeremy's? And why are you going out with Rob? What happened to Dean?"

"Oh, Cass..." Morgan sighed. "I screwed up."

"What happened?"

"He took me out Friday night, and we came back here, and..." She trailed off.

"And?"

"I woke up in his arms, Cass, and it was _so_ nice, and then he woke up and freaked out and he's gone." Morgan slumped back against the loveseat, cradling the phone to her ear.

"He ran? You _slept_ with him, and he took off? Again? What a _bastard_! And this is your fault _how_?"

"Well, obviously it was a mistake to sleep with him, since he took off!"

"Oh, God, honey. It's not your fault he's a jackass..."

"Everyone leaves," Morgan said, her breath hitching as the tears tried to come again. "I love them, and they leave."

"Oh, no... you don't love him, Mor -- "

"I think I do, Cassidy. I really think I do. He's... sweet, and kind, and caring, and he -- "

"And he ran. He doesn't _deserve_ you! And hey, I take exception to what you just said -- I love you, and Jeremy loves you, and _we're_ still here! We're not going anywhere."

Morgan smiled shakily. "I know. And I love you guys too. I just don't understand why I'm not good enough for anyone else."

"He's not worth your grief, Morgan. If he can't see what he's missing, then just forget him!"

"But... Cass... there was something... when he woke up on Saturday, there was something wrong with him -- the look in his eyes, it wasn't like he didn't care -- it was like... he was scared."

"Probably -- commitment scares a lot of guys, Morgan! He was scared, and he took off."

Morgan sighed. "I don't know... it would be so easy just to think that, but he just _ran_! It wasn't like he was just leaving because he was done with me. And he hasn't called, hasn't been home -- "

"What do you mean he hasn't been home?"

"I mean, he hasn't been home! He took off on his motorcycle, and he hasn't called Adam. He obviously didn't go to work today and -- " Morgan peered out the window. Sure enough, nothing had moved next door. "His truck hasn't moved from that spot in his driveway since we brought it home Friday night."

"Okay, that is odd." Cassidy sounded just as confused by it as Morgan felt.

Morgan nodded. "Yeah. I think I broke him."

Cassidy laughed. "Maybe... I don't know, Morgan. Maybe something happened, who knows? But just... Okay, maybe he'll call, I don't know. But it's not your fault if he doesn't, okay? You're doing so well -- don't let him destroy you."

Her sigh was audible over the phone line. "If he _did_ just run out, just... I don't know, just forget him."

"He was the only guy I've ever been with besides Rob, Cassidy -- I _slept_ with him, I don't do that with _anybody_! I can't just forget him..."

"I know, Mor." Cassidy sighed again. "I know."

"Thanks for calling, Cass, and I'm sorry I didn't return your calls. I'm really glad you called. I was... kind of a mess."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I felt so stupid..."

"God, Morgan -- we've all made mistakes -- remember Nicky?"

Morgan laughed. "Oh, God, I forgot about Nicky!"

"I didn't!"

"Yes, but it was a party -- one night, _that_ was a mistake! This was months, Cass..."

"Yeah, which is why it's so weird... and he hasn't been home..." Cassidy trailed off.

"You sound like you don't think he just did a runner," Morgan said with a frown.

"I don't know. But he has to come home sometime..."

"You'd think..." Morgan sighed. "Guess I'll eventually figure out what the hell is going on, and figure out why it's over. But _God_ , it was nice..."

Cassidy chuckled sadly. "Sorry, hon."

"Yeah. Okay, enough shared misery for one night. I should probably go to bed. Thanks for calling, and I'll call you tomorrow."

"You sure you're gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine." Morgan told her. "Say hi to Diego for me."

"I will. You call me, okay?"

"I will. Good night, Cass."

"Night."

Morgan hung up and sighed, staring at the ceiling again.

"Time for bed." She was about to put the phone back on the cradle when she realized the light was blinking. She figured she should at least go through and delete the messages Cassidy had left. Grabbing the phone, she hauled herself up from the loveseat and trudged through the house. She tossed the phone on the chair in her room as she got ready for bed.

There were six messages from Cassidy, and three from Jeremy, and Morgan sighed. She'd have to call Jeremy, too.

"Hey, Morgan -- "

She almost dropped the phone. "Dean!" she murmured, hitting the key to repeat the message.

"Sent today at 8:45 pm."

"Hey, Morgan, it's me. Um, it's -- it's Dean. Look, I just wanted to say that I'm... I'm sorry for the way I reacted, and I know you probably don't want to hear it, but I just -- I needed to say it, needed you to know... Anyway, I'll be home tomorrow night, and I'd like to talk to you... I'll... I... I'm sorry. Take care of yourself."

There was a five second pause before the message ended, as if he was trying to figure out something else to say. Morgan played the message twice more before she saved it.

"He sounds... exhausted," she muttered to herself. He sounded more than exhausted. He sounded distressed, and tense. He sounded miserable. "But he's alive, thank God."

The worry receded slightly now that she'd heard his voice, and the anger came roaring back. Morgan told herself that she didn't care, that she didn't want to hear his excuses, and she'd almost managed to convince herself by the time she fell asleep.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Dean's truck wasn't in the street in front of his house when Morgan got home around ten on Tuesday night. Their garage door was open, and she could see that the truck was now parked in its customary place. The spot for Adam's car was empty beside it.

As always, she let Chaos out from his kennel in the backyard so that he could go for a quick run around the front yard. Even in her pensive mood, she couldn't help but smile at his antics as he dashed about two or three times in lightning fast circles, yipping excitedly all the while.

As she watched him, a shadow detached itself from the darkness of Dean and Adam's garage and began moving towards her, and she almost yelped in surprise.

"Morgan..."

"Jesus, Dean, you almost gave me a heart attack. Have you been standing there waiting for me?" She crossed her arms over her chest and took a step back as he came closer.

"Not too long. An hour, maybe."

"You stood in the dark for an hour?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. _Why didn't you just sit in the living room and stare out the window?_ she thought wryly to herself. _That's what I always do_.

"Didn't know what time you'd be home, and I wanted to talk to you. I didn't know if you'd want -- "

"I'm glad you're alive," she interrupted. "I wasn't sure for several days, since you just took off and didn't, y'know, call or anything."

"Morgan -- " He took a step closer to her, his hands shoved in his pockets, and she took another step back, raising a hand to stop him.

"Just because I'm glad you're not dead doesn't mean I want to listen to anything you have to say."

Dean took another step closer. "Morgan -- look, I'm sorry."

The light from her garage fell on his face as he moved closer, and she gasped. He looked worn, almost haggard -- there were dark circles around his eyes, and he was pale. "God, Dean, you look like hell."

He smiled wanly. "I had a rough few days. They sent me home from work today. Told me, and I quote, ‘You look like hell.' I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume that I look like hell."

Morgan raised a hand. "You know what? I don't care. No, that's not true. I _can't_ care. Goodbye, Dean. Come on, Chaos."

She turned, forcing herself not to look at Dean's face as she headed for the door that led into the house. She heard the click of Chaos' claws on the concrete of the driveway, heard Dean say, "Hey, boy," and then there was a canine growl and a human yelp of pain.

Whirling around, she saw Chaos hunkered down, snarling, as Dean shook his hand in the air.

"Chaos!" she gasped. "Oh my God, Dean, did he bite you?"

She grabbed his hand, examining it closely. There was no blood, no wound that she could see.

"It was just a nip," he reassured her. "It startled me, that's all. I'm not hurt."

Morgan let his hand go, afraid she'd never let go if she didn't do it now. She couldn't help her smile or the little bit of vindictive glee now that she knew he wasn't hurt -- but she hated herself for it. "Good," she said. "He knows I'm mad at you. Good boy. Come on," she said, gesturing for the dog to follow her.

When she turned to see if Chaos was following her, she caught a glimpse of Dean's eyes in her peripheral vision. He was gazing at her, his eyes filled with hurt, and he looked like a lost little boy. She barely caught the slumping of his shoulders as he began to turn away, and she sighed. Everything in her told her she should just keep walking away, but she couldn't do it

"Dean..."

He stopped but didn't turn around. "I know you don't want to hear me out," he said, his voice low and filled with self-retribution. "I understand -- I also understand that you don't care if I understand. But one day, Morgan, I hope that you'll give me a call, let me at least try to explain."

"You've got half an hour," she said abruptly, and he glanced over his shoulder at her in surprise. She sighed again, and walked past him, heading around the garage towards the front porch. The front porch light, on as always, dimly illuminated the area.

Even though she was giving him more of a chance than she knew he deserved, Morgan still couldn't bear to have him in the house again, not so soon. She led him to the front porch swing and gestured to it.

"Wait here," she said, and then she scooped up Chaos, unlocked the front door, and dumped her purse in the living room before depositing the dog back in his kennel and making her way back to the front porch.

When she returned to Dean, he was sitting listlessly on the swing, one hand wrapped around the support pole as he stared out into the darkness. He looked up at her arrival, but he soon looked away. She sat beside him, making sure there was plenty of space between them.

The silence grew. "Spill," she said when it got to be too much.

Dean sighed. "I'm sorry, Morgan."

"You already said that part."

"I was scared."

She shook her head in irritation. "Didn't we already go through this once? You were scared, you ran away, we got past it -- this is not a fun cycle, Dean!"

"It's not the same!" For the first time, he showed some spirit, his eyes filled with fire as he looked at her, but the fire died and he looked away all too soon. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"I have a son, Morgan."

She was glad she was sitting down. "What? Y-you have a what?"

"At least... I think I do."

"I don't understand."

"My last girlfriend -- Amy -- we'd been together about two years when she told me she was pregnant. This all happened... about three years ago. I was terrified, Morgan -- we were together, but we weren't really serious, and I wasn't ready to be a father -- or a husband. But that's how I was raised, what I was taught was right -- you get a girl pregnant, you marry her, you provide for your family, whether you wanted one or not."

Morgan listened, half horrified, half entranced. She'd never heard Dean say so much at once, and certainly not about himself. There were parts of him locked up so tight she'd never had any clue they might exist.

"So we got engaged -- we fought a lot, over stupid stuff because we couldn't bring ourselves to fight over the big stuff -- and I was just getting used to the idea that we were having a baby."

Dean looked up at her, and his eyes were wide and glassy and awestruck. "Me. I'd helped to create life. There was this... tiny being, and he was gonna be half me! I was just learning to fall in love with the baby, and Amy left me."

"What?" Morgan blurted out, aghast.

He shook his head in half-remembered confusion. "One day, she was -- we were -- looking at this pregnancy book her mom had bought her -- and all of a sudden, she just slammed it shut and threw it across the room. She... she said she'd had enough of... ‘this happy family crap' and she packed a bag and she took off. I don't know where she is, Morgan."

"The baby..."

"I don't know. I've looked everywhere for them. I don't know if she had the baby, if she gave it up for adoption, if she's married and raising him somewhere -- I don't know if she's alive or dead -- if my son's alive or dead -- hell, I don't even know if it was my baby. But nobody knows where she is. Not even her family knows, or if they do, they won't tell me."

"God, Dean..." she breathed, and unconsciously, she moved her hand to cover his where it lay on the seat of the swing. "I'm so sorry, that's horrible."

He nodded, swallowing harshly.

"Why didn't..." She trailed off, shaking her head. It was obvious that Dean was still confused and distressed over the whole situation. It wasn't something he was likely to bring up in casual conversation, which was probably why he hadn't told her.

The more pressing matter was how his history with Amy had led to his flight from Morgan's bed.

"I don't understand... why... I mean, how... why would that make you run from me?"

He looked her in the eye for the first time that evening. "You are the first woman I've cared for, the first woman I've really made love to since her -- I just... I woke up and I panicked, Morgan. I just thought, ‘Oh, God, I can't go through this again.'"

"But how could you think that I would -- "

"I didn't! And I still don't. I just freaked. I panicked, and God, I'm so sorry that I hurt you."

"You didn't call for three days."

"I went looking for Amy -- I drove home, and when I was in Oceanside, I ran into one of the girls she used to hang out with, and she told me she'd heard Amy might be in this little town in Southern Oregon, so I went there."

"You went to Oregon?" she asked, half-disbelievingly.

"I have to find her, Morgan. I have to find _them_. I have to know." Dean gazed into her eyes, beseeching her to believe him, to understand.

"Okay," she said soothingly. "Okay, I understand. But we were safe, Dean. We used protection -- and I'm on the pill. The chances of anything happening are probably about the same as getting struck by lightning and winning the lottery in the same day."

"Amy and I thought we were safe, too. It happens anyway sometimes, Morgan, and I just panicked -- and after what Adam told me about _your_ last breakup, I -- "

"Hold on," she interrupted. " _What_ did Adam tell you about my last breakup?"

Dean suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry if he broke a confidence he shouldn't have broken -- I was asking about you, and he told me what he said he knew."

"Just tell me, please." Unpleasant thoughts about Adam were forming in her mind -- Dean's recent history was just about as far from what Adam had told her as it could possibly be.

"He said there'd been... a pregnancy scare, that your ex -- Ray?"

"Rob." Her whole body immediately went cold. She felt numb -- distant and unattached to anything.

"Rob -- Adam said Rob thought you'd done it on purpose and he broke up with you."

"I don't even know how Adam found out about that," she murmured.

"Then it's true?"

Morgan looked up at him, tears of betrayal and remembered terror burning in her eyes. "You think I'm capable of that?"

"No, I don't," he said firmly. "But I don't know if Rob did."

"There was... a scare. I was nineteen and already on the pill -- I've been on it since I was sixteen, for health reasons -- but we had... we had just started sleeping together and I thought I might be pregnant. I worried about it for about two weeks before I told him -- and my mother -- and then I went and got tested and I found out I wasn't. Rob and I didn't sleep together for about six months after that."

"So it's not why you broke up?" he asked.

"Rob and I broke up because he's an unfeeling bastard who couldn't figure out how to deal with me after my family died. I've never told Adam about what happened when I was nineteen, and I have no idea how he knows or why he would tell you that."

Dean was frowning. "I don't either."

"So just how many girlfriends would you say you've had since high school?" she casually asked him. He jerked his head up to gape at her, eyes wide.

"What?"

"Well, you see, Adam told _me_ that you're a player, always have been, and that he didn't want to see me get hurt."

"What?"

"So he took our fears -- mine of abandonment and yours of being trapped with a family you don't want -- and he played them -- and us -- against each other," she realized.

Dean's fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "I'll kill the bastard," he growled. "How the hell could he -- what is he _doing_?"

"I don't know, but I have an idea and it's not pretty -- "

"It doesn't make any _sense_ , Morgan! Why would he..." Dean shook his head in confusion.

"He's got some issues, Dean," she said gently. "You've lived with him for a while now, you should know that."

"But... I'll kill him!" he snarled, jumping to his feet, and Morgan grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him back down.

"He's not home anyway, so we'll deal with him later. You and I have other things to talk about."

He glanced at her, and the rage in his eyes died, replaced with the affectionate, caring look she'd missed. It just about broke her heart because she wasn't sure she could trust it anymore. She recoiled slightly, looking away, trying to protect her heart, and Dean sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping.

"God, I fucked things up, didn't I?" he said, reaching out to stroke her cheek. She tensed, but she didn't flinch from his touch, closing her eyes as his fingertips caressed her.

"Yeah," she said with a shaky laugh. "But I think we both did. You get more of the blame, though."

"I'll take all of it if you'll forgive me."

She opened her eyes to study his face. "I don't know if I can, Dean. I have been dying little by little for three days, not knowing what I did, what happened, how you could seem to care so much and then just take off and not care enough to even call."

"I do," he said quickly. "God, I do, I care so much, Morgan. I think I lo -- "

"Don't," she said, clapping a hand over his mouth. "Don't say it, I don't want it as an apology."

He nodded, but his gaze told her what she wouldn't let his lips say, and she closed her eyes again to keep from seeing it.

"I don't know if I can do this. I don't know how I can get over the idea that you might get spooked and run off again."

"I won't, I swear to you. The whole time I was gone, I was thinking about how I screwed things up and how much I missed you, but I didn't know how to fix things -- and then I heard about Amy, and I just..." Dean shook his head, trailing off.

"If this is going to work at _all_ , Dean, you can't go running off every time you hear a rumor that she's somewhere in another state!"

"I know! I know, but -- "

"I'll help you find her," she said, and he gazed at her, his expression a mixture of disbelief and gratitude.

"You will?"

Morgan shrugged. "If she has your son -- he's your family... and he needs you. I can't keep you from that -- I wouldn't want to! But..." She shook her head, trying to shake away her gathering tears. "If you find her, and you decide..." She cleared her throat. "I can't promise to give you up without a fight, if you decide that -- "

"I won't," he said quickly. "I don't want to stay with her -- I just want to find my son. I want you -- I want to make this better... I just want you to trust me, I'm not running again, I swear. I don't know how to convince you."

Morgan took his hand. "Be there," she said. "Stay. Next time -- if there is one -- stay and hold me and don't go running off. Show me that you'll be there by being there."

"I will," he whispered. "I promise."

"You can also start by kicking his ass," she said as Adam's car turned into their driveway.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I will," he said in a quiet, deadly voice as he stood up. He strode across the yard, and Morgan jumped up and hurried after him.

"Dean!" she hissed. "I didn't mean it."

"I did."

Adam was smiling as he got out of his car. "Dean! Glad to finally see you home! We were getting worried about you."

Dean's fist came up and caught Adam square in the nose. The smaller man squawked and fell against the car, sliding to the ground. He clutched his nose and blood streamed around his fingers.

"What the hell is wrong with you, man?" he exclaimed, his voice muffled and filled with pain. Dean reached down and grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt, yanking him to his feet only to slam him against the car.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing?" he growled, and Morgan was truly afraid for Adam's safety, if not his life.

"Dean, wait -- " She grabbed his arm, but he shrugged her off.

"No. He likes to play with people, he's getting what he deserves. What the hell is wrong with you? You _knew_ how I felt about Morgan! I told you! I _trusted_ you and you played us like fucking chess pieces!"

"He wanted a confidante," Morgan said calmly. "He wanted someone to tell his secrets to, someone who'd tell him theirs. He figured this way he'd get two -- I'd tell him, and you'd tell him, and he could feel superior to both of us. Only I didn't play -- and you didn't either -- there are things you just told me that I don't think you told him. We didn't tell him everything, and he wasn't satified with what we _did_ tell him. He couldn't handle it, isn't that right, Adam?"

Adam glared at her with hate-filled eyes, both fists still covering his nose, but he didn't reply.

"Answer her!" Dean shouted, shaking him like a rag doll.

"All I wanted," he bit out, "Was a friend."

"Well, with friends like you -- "

"I've got nobody!" he said. "You had Morgan, and she had you -- and Jeremy and Cassidy and everyone else, and I've got no one! I just wanted someone to talk to!"

"No. You wanted someone who was hurting more than you, someone to lord things over so you'd feel better about yourself. You've got no one because you're a hateful, spineless little bastard who takes delight in the misery of others," she told him. "No wonder you're alone."

She spun and walked out of the garage, trembling with anger. "Come on, Dean, he's not worth it."

There was a mail sack thud as Dean dropped Adam to the ground, and then he caught up with Morgan, still seething.

"I can't believe him," he said, his voice filled with betrayal and pain. "I loved him like a brother in high school -- God, what happened to him?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry you've been hurt by him -- I've known something was fishy about him for a while, but I didn't even think about what he might be telling you -- I was too busy worrying about what he was telling me."

Dean sighed, and then he stopped her with a hand on her arm, turning her to face him. "So, what now?" he said uncertainly.

"Well," Morgan said. "Way I see it, you're homeless for the night -- "

"If I go back over there, I just may kill him."

"You have the choice of two bedrooms -- the guest room..." She paused, studying his face. "Or mine."

He looked tempted for a minute as he gazed at her, and then he sighed again and shook his head. "I think it's probably better if I sleep in the guest room for now," he admitted. "But I will be there to make you breakfast in the morning."

Morgan grinned, giving him a quick kiss. She broke away before he could deepen it, and he looked simultaneously surprised and disappointed. "That sounds like a good start," she murmured, leading him into the house.


	11. Epilogue

 

"So my mom says I should take them again," Sarah was telling her.

"Hmm?" Morgan shaded her eyes from the sun, watching a group of boys who kept glancing at her and the younger girl. She couldn't tell if they were planning something or just checking Sarah out.

"My SATs," Sarah said. "Mom's not pleased with an 1150 -- I think it's pretty good!"

"It's not bad," Morgan said, "But you could do better. I know you can -- you told me you didn't study for them at all."

"I don't get why they're so important."

"Don't you want to go to a good school?"

Sarah shrugged, going quiet as they ushered a group of guests into line. Once the guests had passed them, Sarah said, "Not everybody's cut out for college."

Morgan glanced over at her. "No..." she said slowly. "That's true. But you should at least try it. You have the grades for it -- so much potential. It'd be a shame if you didn't even try. Take them again, it's only _one_ Saturday you have to get up early, and I know that's why you don't want to retake them."

Sarah scowled, and then she lowered her sunglasses slightly, peering over them. "Whoa. Hot guy at twelve o'clock."

Morgan felt a sense of déjà vu as she realized the date, and she laughed as she looked up. The sight of Dean smiling crookedly at her still took her breath away. He was striding purposefully towards her, and she felt a silly rush of pride that he was hers.

"Hey, stranger," she said, beaming at him.

"Hi," he said, his smile widening. "Missed you."

Morgan laughed. "You saw me this morning."

"I know. Still missed you."

"So is this a new tradition?" she asked teasingly.

"Hmm," he said, and she watched his hands twitch, as if he were fighting to keep from reaching for her. He shoved them in his pockets instead. "Well, that's what I was thinking. And then I realized you have to do it for at least two years in a row to make it a tradition, so here I am."

Morgan laughed, and Sarah inched closer.

"Well, hello," the younger girl said, smiling flirtatiously at Dean. "Aren't you going to introduce us, Morgan?"

Dean shot Morgan a quick look that said, _Is this kid for real?_ Morgan had to fight to stifle her laugh.

"This is Dean," she said. "He's -- "

"A complete stranger who just couldn't keep away from this beautiful girl, here. I _had_ to come and see who she is."

Morgan rolled her eyes, and Sarah laughed, holding out her hand. "It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

Dean raised an eyebrow as he shook her hand. "Oh, really?"

"Hey, buddy, you're holding up the line!"

Dean stepped aside, pressing very close to Morgan as he did so. "So sorry, sir. Go on ahead."

"Has it really been a year since that day?" she murmured, and he smiled at her. As close as he was, she could see his eyes through the dark lenses of his sunglasses, and they were fixed predatorily on her. She felt her breath catch in her throat.

"Yes, it has. It was a good day. Especially our trip through the Haunted Mansion."

Morgan laughed. "One track mind." She smiled fondly at him, thinking of the news she had to share with him once they had a chance to sit down and talk. The investigator they'd hired had called to say he had a good lead on Amy, and hopefully that meant he'd have information about Dean's son. She hadn't had a chance to talk to the man yet, but he'd left a message on her cell phone.

Dean was peering at her nametag, and it pulled her out of her reverie. "What's that?" he asked, gesturing at her nametag with his chin.

She glanced at him in confusion. "My nametag," she said slowly.

" _On_ your nametag, brain trust," he said, rolling his eyes.

Morgan looked down. "Oh, my year pin. I got it a few weeks ago. Remember, I was telling you about it? I keep meaning to show it to you, but I always leave my work stuff in the car, and I'm too lazy to go get it once I'm home."

"Or too busy," he whispered, laughing as she blushed. "So the dress code allows it?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yep. Special rules, just for year pins and spirit pins."

"Oh. I thought the dress code was really strict on jewelry. No rings or bracelets or anything like that."

"One small ring on each hand," she told him, staring curiously at him. This was a strange conversation, and one she had to end quickly, unfortunately, before a lead came and discovered her fraternizing with a guest.

He shifted beside her, and suddenly there was a small, velvet jewelry box in his hand. She stared uncomprehendingly as he opened it, showing the gorgeous diamond ring nestled within.

"Think they'd allow this?" he asked, a nervous smile on his face.

Morgan was speechless. Breathless.

"Morgan?" Dean was looking extremely anxious now.

"Dean..." she breathed. "It's beautiful."

They were definitely attracting attention now, and she didn't care. Didn't care if Eisner himself walked up to her and told her to get back to work. Dean gracefully dropped to one knee in front of her, and she couldn't help it; tears began to fall.

"I love you, and I want to spend my life making you happy. Marry me, Morgan."

"Dean!" she exclaimed. She wanted to say, _Yes!_ , wanted to say, _Of course!,_ or, _Absolutely!_ , but all that came out was, "Get up!"

His face fell as he slowly got to his feet. "Okay, not the answer I was hoping for -- mmph!"

Morgan threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him. "Yes!" she exclaimed, peppering his face with kisses. "Yes, yes, yes, I love you, yes!"

He laughed, spinning around with her in his arms as the people surrounding them cheered and clapped. "Thought you said I'd get you in trouble if I kissed you," he murmured against her lips, smiling.

"Don't care!" she laughed. "Oh, God, it's _gorgeous_!" she whispered as he slipped the ring on her finger. "It fits, and it's exactly what I wanted. How did you know?"

He shrugged, smiling slyly. "Stole your class ring for the size, and Cassidy told me what you wanted."

"Cass knows?"

Dean laughed. "Everyone knows. I was so nervous."

"I'm gonna kill her!"

"Morgan!" Sarah suddenly hissed. "Lead!"

Morgan couldn't care less, but Dean grew somber, wiping her cheeks and taking a -- small -- step away from her. "You love this job," he told her, "And I don't want you to lose it."

"God, Dean... I love you. So much."

He grinned, his gaze softening. "Love you too."

"I'm off in half an hour," she said, the words suddenly floating up through her memory. "Are you planning on leaving soon?"

"Why? Know any good places to make out?" He was leering at her -- or trying to -- his eyes were so full of love and joy that he couldn't quite pull it off.

She laughed. "I know _all_ of them." _So does he, by now_ , she thought.

"In front of the castle in an hour."

"An hour and a half," she told him, keeping to the script, though she could probably manage it in an hour now.

"Can't wait," he murmured, reaching up to gently stroke her cheek, and she knew he wasn't talking just about their meeting in front of the castle. He strode past her through the ride's entrance, but he kept glancing back at her, and he looked like the proudest man ever to walk the face of the Earth.

"Me either," Morgan said with a smile as the sunlight danced off the ring on her finger. "Me either."


End file.
